


Culmination

by admiralty



Series: Culmination [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s04e13 Never Again, Episode: s04e14 Memento Mori, Episode: s04e20 Small Potatoes, Episode: s05e07 Emily, Episode: s06e08 The Rain King, Episode: s06e15 Arcadia, Episode: s07e17 All Things, Episode: s07e18 Requiem, Episode: s07e21 Je Souhaite, Episode: s08e01 Within, Episode: s08e021 Existence, Episode: s08e13 Per Manum, Episode: s08e15 DeadAlive, Episode: s08e16 Three Words, Episode: s09e19-20 The Truth, Episode: s10e01 My Struggle, Episode: s11e02 This, Episode: s11e03 Plus One, Episode: s11e09 Nothing Lasts Forever, Episode: s11e10 My Struggle IV, F/M, Falling In Love, Movie: The X-Files: Fight the Future (1998), Post-Episode: s07e17 All Things, Post-Episode: s07e22 Requiem (X-Files), Post-Episode: s08e16 Three Words, Post-Episode: s11e10 My Struggle IV, Post-Movie: The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Pre-Episode: s10e01 My Struggle, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 89,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/pseuds/admiralty
Summary: Mulder and Scully's journey of the heart, step by (baby) step.





	1. CREATION

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. It takes the series canon and expands upon it, filling in blanks and addressing things that remain unexplained, but I try to stay canon-compliant. It’s just kinda my own headcanon on how Mulder and Scully progressed, with scenes I wish I could have seen.
> 
> Fox and Chris Carter own all the X-Files characters. Thanks for letting me borrow them.
> 
> Shoutout to all the fanfic writers because this shit is hard, and sending it out to the world is hard. You are all inspiring.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is the start, the beginning. A new beginning for her, and what has now become the two of them. Everything always comes back to the two of them: seeking, finding, and seeking some more. They are so different, yet always share the same goal, like two roads meeting from opposite directions merging into each other, leading as one into oblivion."

_**CREATION** _

  **(Pilot)**

 

  **SCULLY**

 

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The sun and the stars, the plant life, the animals, and eventually, one man and one woman. These two human beings were a new beginning, the start of something big, something important. The beginning of life in this universe… or at least, what we know of it.

This is what Dana Katherine Scully was taught as a child in Sunday school. Her father and mother were devoted Catholics and she knew no other truth. Although growing older has reduced the biblical lesson to allegory in her scientific mind, she still believes in her heart that this is the way all things begin: with intent, with purpose, with meaning.

She thinks of this story the day she meets Fox Mulder. As she opens the door to his basement office, there’s something in the air; an electricity, an excitement, a new beginning that seems fated. She doesn’t believe in destiny, necessarily, but if she did she’d feel it today.

She takes in her surroundings before she has a chance to take him in. The walls are absolutely covered with what must be Agent Mulder, as if his insides are on display, bared for the world to see if only anyone would notice. Newspaper clippings, crime scene photographs, crop circle diagrams, tiny scraps of a life obsessed litter the room. The central feature of his office is a poster of a UFO with the words “I Want to Believe” scrawled guilelessly across the bottom. She’s not the type to judge a book by its cover so she reproaches herself for sizing him up before she even lays eyes on him, but she feels like she can see pieces of him everywhere.

As he turns to greet her, she notes that he is a bit older than her, seasoned but still quite young. She immediately finds him attractive, and just as immediately relegates these thoughts to the back of her mind. Entertaining them would be a mistake. She’s here to work, to distinguish herself. She wants to build a reputation at the FBI, not be given one.

His face is boyish, as is his exuberance. When he speaks to her he looks her in the eye, which she respects. He has the fascination of a child discovering the wonders of the world around him.

She doesn’t know it yet but meeting him will change the course of her entire life.

The more she learns about him, the more she respects his views and the completely unique way in which he sees the world. She drinks it up, admires his devotion. He’s not like the other men she’s met at the Bureau, the ones who have something to prove and answer that call with relentless ambition, who treat her like something less, someone who doesn’t belong. Mulder is driven, passionate, but not in pursuit of a ladder; in pursuit of his own dreams and desires. He’s extraordinary.

Most importantly, he truly sees her.

There’s an undeniable spark they share, that she can sense whenever they’re in each other’s presence. He’s almost an entire foot taller than her, but when they speak they stand so close she has to physically crane her neck to look at him. She doesn’t understand why they do this, why they have this need to be so near each other, but it’s immediate and natural. It’s a magnetism she can’t deny.

When he’s with her he seems to lose his sense of personal boundaries. He stands too close, or gently touches her elbow. He holds doors for her and guides her by the small of her back. She doesn’t mind it, which is unusual for her. She rarely lets men get away with these things. But Mulder isn’t like other men; he does this absently, naturally, without purpose or agenda. She knows he doesn't mean it to be, but she suspects it’s more territorial than gentlemanly. And that’s fine with her, because she is his and he is hers in some unidentifiable way. Somehow, this is just how things are going to be.

As they move forward together in their partnership, they learn to know each other better. He challenges her in ways she never dreamed of. His theories and methods are unlike any she’s seen back at the academy, or anywhere else, for that matter. Every day is exciting, perplexing and remarkable, and the intellectual connection they share is unlike any other she’s ever experienced. She feels truly blessed to have met him. His presence in her life feels like an unexpected gift dropped directly into her lap.

Her friends in the Bureau think he’s a joke. “Spooky” Mulder. A loser. A wasted opportunity. An incredibly smart and talented agent squandering his life away on ridiculousness. But she knows the truth: when she is with him he cracks her world wide open. When they are together, she’s learning to believe. Whenever anyone condemns him, she defends him like a lioness defending her pride. She sees something in him no one else seems to see: limitless potential.

More than that, she likes him. He has become her friend. They have developed a genuine bond, and an affection for one another which she can’t quite yet identify but she can feel; more real and tangible than most of the monsters that elude them.

She often wonders if she’s helping or hindering him more. She feels that he trusts her, and that trust has been hard earned. But there are times when he will pull away from her, as if he’s gone somewhere in his mind she knows she cannot follow. Those are the times he can drive her absolutely crazy, and she can’t decide whether she wants to kill him or kiss him. She’s definitely thought about doing both.

It isn’t long before she regards him as the only person she can trust with her life. It will be much longer before she trusts him with her heart.

This is the start, the beginning. A new beginning for her, and what has now become the two of them. Everything always comes back to the two of them: seeking, finding, and seeking some more. They are so different, yet always share the same goal, like two roads meeting from opposite directions merging into each other, leading as one into oblivion.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

 

 

  _Trust no one._

Fox William Mulder knows this inherently before any of his informants ever warn him. He’s felt it most of his life, probably before any kid should. When his sister Samantha disappeared, he stopped trusting his parents. As he grew older and began his journey at the FBI, that distrust extended to the government. An organization he believed was dedicated to seeking the truth had revealed its own corruption over the years. Even personal relationships have been difficult; he's found it hard to get too close to anyone for too long.

His instincts tell him to distrust his new partner before he meets her. He’s well aware of the Bureau’s intentions regarding his work. Dr. Dana Scully’s presence in his office feels intrusive at first, unwelcome. He’s done his homework on her, and had believed he’d gotten a general idea of the person they’ve sent from upstairs to shut him down, reign him in.

But the person standing in front of him now doesn’t do his preconceived notions any justice. She’s tenacious, energized, engaged. She looks at him, really listens when he’s speaking. He likes that because he isn’t used to it.

She’s younger than he expected, and green, _so_ green. He wants to use the word “adorable” but somehow he knows better. She’s smart as hell, probably smarter than he is, and probably too smart for her own good. Her brain is definitely going to get in the way of her gut, as well as his. This partnership is going to be tricky but he’s up for the challenge.

She wears a gold cross around her neck, which he finds fascinating considering she doesn’t seem to believe in anything outside the realm of science. He makes a mental note to ask her about it someday.

As they talk in his office, he can’t help but think of Diana Fowley. She and Scully are nothing alike, he can already tell, but the comparison enters his mind automatically. The similar minds he and Diana shared were helpful when he’d first discovered the X Files. She’d agreed with him on practically everything. It helped them find cases, but they’d had a tough time actually solving them. He knows now she wasn’t the right fit for him, in more ways than one. Yet another person he’d placed his trust in who had abused it.

He can’t help but find Scully attractive, but after what happened with Diana he resolves he will not let it interfere with their partnership. He feels a pang at this thought, because something in him is telling him this is different, this person could be the one, this person is safe to love. He already loves her but doesn’t want to admit it. He can’t. He can’t risk a similar outcome. Everything about Diana was a huge mistake.

Anyway, she’s well in his past. This new person Scully appears to be his future. Only time will tell exactly what kind of future that will turn out to be.

Her wide blue eyes capture his immediately, and through them he feels as if she might be knowable. He’s always dismissed the old adage about the eyes being the window to the soul until this very moment, looking into hers. There will be many moments in his future when he will get lost in them.

Other agents in the Bureau call each other by their first names, but he never calls her Dana. He doesn’t really know why, but he does know he doesn’t want her to call him Fox. Besides, he likes how “Scully” sounds. It’s endearing to him. He’s called her Scully so many times it feels strange now to call her anything else. And she calls him Mulder in response, like it’s their own private shorthand. They’ve accepted one another as equals without having to acknowledge it verbally.

He likes the way she says his name, too. She’s got about twelve versions. His favorites are “annoyed” and “exasperated.” She’s cute when she’s exasperated.

As they fall comfortably into their new partnership, he quickly discovers she’s a perfect counterpoint to everything he thinks and feels. They begin phone conversations like they’re already in the middle of one. He lobs a theory at her, and her backhand is immediate and usually accompanied by a raised skeptical eyebrow. Sometimes her skepticism can drive him absolutely crazy, but he’s completely charmed by her savvy. He knows she doesn’t believe in most of this stuff, but she listens and respects him, and sometimes he can tell he’s broken through. These are the moments he lives for. She hears him, which is something, really something.

Protecting her has become a priority in his life he hadn’t anticipated. Perhaps it’s displaced fear, or a remnant of the powerlessness he felt watching Samantha get torn away from him. But keeping Scully safe from harm feels like more than an obligation, it’s a primal need inside him. It feels like protecting her is protecting himself.

There are times when he feels as if his heart may burst from confusion and loneliness. In these moments he pulls away from her, keeps her at arm’s length. He knows it pisses her off but it’s self-preservation, he needs to do it. He wants to let her in, wants to badly, but he can’t. He wonders if he’s doomed to be lonely forever. Sometimes he doesn’t trust himself around her and he needs to wait to get that trust back.

Soon enough, he will give her his trust. It’s not something he can quantify or explain, but it’s deep in his gut, visceral, and if there’s one thing he’s always trusted it’s his instincts. He knows she’s in this with him, in a way no one really has been before. Somehow this person is going to be his partner, through and through, for the long haul. He can feel it.

He is careful with his heart, and always has been. But somehow deep down he knows one day she’ll find a way in. He wants to believe.

He’s completely unaware of how much he needs her. But she has arrived.


	2. EXPECTATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want you to trust me, Mulder.”
> 
> He hesitates, but something in him is telling him she’s the one, the one he can confide in, the one he can tell. He’s been waiting for this person his entire life. She will listen. She will believe him. He feels it deep in his gut, in his heart, everywhere he can feel it.

_**EXPECTATION** _

 

  **MULDER**

  **(Pilot)**

 

“...Hi.”

He definitely isn’t expecting to see her at his motel room door, in her bathrobe, standing there in the rain. It’s not an unwelcome visit, but he’s unprepared. She’s visibly shaken, upset.

“I want you to look at something,” she says. This isn’t a social call, and he quickly rebukes the notion that he was hoping it might be.

“Come on in.” He opens the door and she rushes inside. The room is dark due to the blackout, and she turns around, facing away from him. Suddenly she’s dropping her robe, and he can see the curves of her body in the candlelight, and for a brief moment his mind wanders to a place he knows it shouldn’t go. But she’s truly afraid of something, and his concern for her outweighs his libido for the moment.

The robe falls down to her waist, revealing her naked back to him. She does it without hesitation, exposing far more in this moment than her bare skin; she’s showing her vulnerability. She’s so trusting in him he feels humbled.

She indicates a couple spots on her lower back, spots that he has to admit share a remarkable resemblance to those found on the teenage abductees they’d discovered in the woods earlier that day. Her voice is trembling.

“...What are they?”

He slowly crouches down to get a closer look. He can tell they are mosquito bites right away, and he wonders how she couldn’t see it for herself. Fear can get the best of anyone, he supposes. He tries to absorb the significance of Dr. Dana Scully’s very real fear that she might have contracted some sort of alien abductee disease, but he’s distracted by how smooth and perfect her skin looks and he lingers near the small of her back for a few seconds too long, he knows it. He can’t help it.

“Mulder! What are they?!”

Eventually he allays her fears and she flings herself into his arms with relief. At first he thinks the entire thing is kind of funny, but then he feels her body shaking. She seems genuinely afraid.

“I need to sit down,” she admits. She wraps the robe back around her body and sits in one of his chairs, breathing heavily.

“Take your time.” Mulder sets the candle down on the table by the door and takes the seat opposite her.

“I’m sorry for barging in on you, I think... I just overreacted, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He’s having a hard time believing she had been that afraid of something she dismissed so completely only a few hours earlier. He’s starting to wonder what’s really underneath her layers. It excites him, fascinates him. “These cases can get a little spooky. You’ll get used to it.”

She looks over at him, her hair slightly curling from the dampness. She hasn’t looked any less than put together the past couple days, but it’s funny… right now is the first time he’s really noticing how beautiful she is.

Stop it, he tells himself. He can’t be thinking about this. It’s utterly unprofessional. And inconvenient.

“You know, Mulder, you’ve got a way about you. Your... earnestness, your devotion. It’s a little contagious, I have to admit.” She smiles at him.

“You really didn’t know those were mosquito bites?” he asks. “You are a medical doctor, right? You’re not pulling my leg?”

“It was hard to see from that angle-" She narrows her eyes, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She’s not quite used to his sense of humor yet. “Shut up, Mulder.”

He laughs, gets up, offers her his hand. “Come on, you can stay in here if you want. We only have so many candles.”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

“I insist. Lotta big mosquitoes out there.”

She scrunches her face up and takes his hand as he helps her out of the chair. He walks over to the closet and pulls down a fleece blanket, handing it to her. “Here, you get warm first. You can take the bed. I’m used to the couch anyway.”

She hugs the blanket to her chest, eyeing him. “Mulder. I’m not going to take your bed.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s against Bureau regulations.”

“You don’t know me very well yet, but you’ll learn soon enough that the Bureau regulations and I don’t get along very well.” He eyes her mischievously. “But try any of that Tailhook crap on me, Scully, and I’ll kick your ass.”

Smiling, she crawls onto his bed, pulling the blanket around her. “You know, I could have you written up just for mentioning that.”

“But you won’t,” he grins.

“No, I won’t,” she admits. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“The type to sexually harass my female peers? Or the type to make jokes about it?”

“Neither, really.” She props her head up on one elbow as he plops down against the bed at her feet. “Quite frankly, I imagine you just don’t have the time or the energy.”

“You’re probably right about that.” He stares up at the ceiling. The rain pounds against the windows, picking up in intensity.

“What are you thinking?” she asks him, after a couple minutes of silence have passed.

“I’m thinking… that I feel like I can really trust you.”

She’s silent for a minute, and their eyes somehow meet in the dark room. He can tell she knows he’s serious, that this means something to him. “I want you to trust me, Mulder.”

He hesitates, but something in him is telling him she’s the one, the one he can confide in, the one he can tell. He’s been waiting for this person his entire life. She will listen. She will believe him. He feels it deep in his gut, in his heart, everywhere he can feel it.

“I want to tell you something,” he says.

“You can tell me anything.”

He exhales loudly, knowing he’s taking a great risk. She could laugh at him. She could roll her eyes. She could ask to be reassigned. All these things cross his mind in this moment, but the one thing outweighing everything else is the part of him that’s saying _trust her. You can trust her._

So he does. He tells her everything. And she doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t roll her eyes. She hears him. He’s not certain if she really believes his sister was abducted by aliens, but he knows on this night they’ve made a vow, a silent unbreakable bond to always hear each other.

To always trust in one another.

It’s more than he expected, and much more than he hoped for. On this night he makes a choice, a decision, to place his trust in Scully, his new partner.

He’s been uncertain about many things in his life, but in this he believes.

 

 

 

**SCULLY**

**(Shadows)**

 

  _“Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants Thereof.”_

Scully reads the inscription on the bell. She squints at the type, wishing she had her glasses from her carry-on bag back at the motel. Mulder is watching her, leaning against the railing, sans tie and jacket, top button undone. It’s as casual as he’d prepared to get on this trip.

“You know, that’s a Bible verse, Scully.”

She leans forward a bit to inspect the bell and cocks her head towards him. “Gee, thanks, Mulder, but I knew that.”

“Of course you did.” He pops a sunflower seed into his mouth, grins at her expectantly. He knows she’ll say it. She can’t help herself.

“Leviticus 25:10, actually.”

“Ah!” he rolls his head back and looks skyward, then looks at her smiling, shaking his head. “No one likes a know-it-all, Scully.”

She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m an endless fountain of information, some useful and some not so useful.”

“All of it’s useful if your objective is impressing your partner.”

“Anyway, it says it right here.” She walks around the bell and points to the inscription. He comes around behind her to look.

“Well, I never pegged you as a cheater.”

“I didn’t cheat. You don’t grow up a Catholic Navy brat without knowing some of these things,” she explains. “Besides, I’ve been here before.”

Mulder does a low, exaggerated bow. “Right. Well I appreciate you powering through this again for me, Scully.”

As they wander around the bell, she decides to impress him a little more. “Did you know that they have no way of knowing if this particular bell was ever actually rung at the reading of the Declaration of Independence?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean," she explains with a smile, "there’s no proof, not really. There’s no way to know. All we have are the accounts of historians and their best guesses. We just have to take their word for it.”

Mulder thinks for a moment. “That’s interesting. So you’re telling me we raced across town to get here before they closed, waited in line for forty-five minutes and the damn thing may have never even actually been rung?”

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Well, that would be disappointing if I wasn’t so completely used to that kind of disappointment in my everyday life.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she smiles.

“But that’s an interesting perspective. How many things that we think are true, and don’t even question, are based off what other people have told us? Are we expected to prove everything to ourselves or is it reasonable to just… take someone’s word for it?"

“I suppose it’s a matter of trust. Deciding who to place your trust in. I place my trust in science.”

“...And I trust no one,” he smiles conspiratorially. “Maybe that’s why I never get anywhere in this line of work?”

“That’s definitely something you should reflect upon in your more pensive moments, Mulder,” she suggests with a smile.

A family passes by them, a small child having a minor meltdown. Scully thinks of her own godson, and wonders how tolerable he’d find a visit to the Liberty Bell at almost eight o’clock in the evening on a weeknight. She remembers fondly the dozens of vacations and trips her own family went on to visit sites just like this. Her father was a huge American history buff, and that in itself was enough for young Dana Scully to consume as much knowledge on the subject as she could.

“You know, you never answered my question from earlier today, Scully,” he suddenly says, interrupting her reverie.

“Hm?” she replies absently. “What question?”

“Whether or not you believe in an afterlife.” He’s leaning back on the railing again, and she joins him.

“Honestly, I don’t think about it all that much.”

“You must have some thoughts on the subject,” he presses, a slight nod at her gold cross necklace. He casually pops a seed into his mouth.

She pauses, considering his motives. There’s no superiority, no condescension in his eyes. Just warmth and friendship and genuine curiosity. So she decides to divulge.

“I know, as a scientist and a rational person, that much of what’s in the Bible simply can’t be taken as fact. But... I don’t know, something in me takes great comfort in the idea that maybe there’s something or someone out there watching over me and the people I care about. So, I guess… the idea of an afterlife is a comfort, too. I’ve always thought that since I was a child. Maybe it seems crazy, but it’s tough to shake, you know?”

He looks at her pointedly, working a shell around in his mouth. “I do know.”

They share a smile and a silence hangs between them for a minute.

“Well, Mulder, we’ve got something in common after all. Neither of us can prove what we believe.”

“So you do believe it.”

She sighs. “Would it be incredibly cheesy of me to say that I want to believe?”

“Yes, yes it would," he smiles. "But I like it.” 

“Well, what about you, Mulder?”

He shrugs. “I don’t have anything too interesting to reveal. As far as an afterlife goes, I obviously believe ghosts are possible. So some kind of realm beyond our own is something I imagine could be possible, too. But I’ve just never found a compelling reason to believe there’s some singular God, a higher power in charge of everything. The world is so beautiful in its randomness, and full of intricacies with so little rhyme or reason. Not to mention its endless inherent cruelties. It’s too difficult for me to acknowledge someone is responsible for all of it.”

“Yeah, but ... aliens?” She can’t help it.

He tilts his head to one side. “Look, Scully, I have the same doubts you do. But to me it seems all too possible, even probable, that we aren’t alone in the universe. And it definitely doesn’t sound any more far fetched than the concept of an all-powerful, all-knowing God.”

She looks away, uncomfortable. She can’t quite explain this feeling that comes over her whenever someone brings up the believability of God. The constant battle waging inside her mind on this particular topic never seems to abate. So in general she tries to avoid it entirely.

He continues. “We can disagree on pretty much anything, Scully, but I need you to know I’ll always respect your opinion, and I’ll always want to hear it.”

“I do know that, Mulder,” she says quietly. “Contrary to what you might think, you should know I feel the same way.”

He smiles and nods, an understanding between them. She really feels like, at this moment, nothing more needs to be said. So they stand next to one another in silence for awhile, looking at a large bell with a crack in it, wondering about the knell that may or may not have been.

After a minute he speaks again. “I’m glad we did this, Scully.” She knows his meaning is layered; the visit to the Liberty Bell, but also the opportunity to have a conversation about life, one that isn’t mandated by the Bureau.

“Me too. Thanks for talking me into it.” They start to exit as a group of tourists pass around them, forcing them to swim upstream for a bit. Mulder places his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the observation area. As usual, she gets a tiny rush from the contact and as usual, doesn’t know what to make of it. Then, as usual, she feels a slight pang of disappointment when he moves his hand away.

“I’m starving,” she suddenly says. “Want to go get something to eat before we head out?”

“Yes. That would be a yes,” he answers. “Please say you like Philly cheesesteaks, Scully.”

“I was going to say,” she grins.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Pilot" is written by Chris Carter.


	3. AFFIRMATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything comes to fruition in her mind in an instant. Maybe knowing she’s dying brings clarity she hadn’t had before. Maybe it’s the wine she’s been drinking all evening. Maybe it’s the hard fucking evidence that she was only just half a second away from pulling his mouth to hers and letting him take her right there on her couch. Whatever the reason, she can’t deny it anymore, she knows the truth.
> 
> She’s in love with Mulder."

_**AFFIRMATION** _

 

  **SCULLY**

**(Never Again/ Memento Mori/ Small Potatoes)**

 

_“Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life.”_

_“Yes, but it’s…”_

She’s been thinking about this unfinished sentence a lot. The silence that followed, the distance they felt as they sat across from each other, thinking so much but saying nothing. Mulder’s desk situated between them like a huge mahogany metaphor for this particular bump in their road.

For the first time, it felt like they were in a real fight. The things they’d said to each other had hurt, but worse than that is the quiet resentment she now knows they’re both feeling. This inability to communicate about the things that really matter only adds to her frustration.

Two steps forwards and three steps back. It’s exhausting and disheartening to feel this way right now. She can’t help but wonder if she should be in a very different place in her life. Her friends are getting married, having kids, doing… _normal_ things. Things she assumed she’d probably be doing by now. Things she thought she really wanted to do. Even the people she considers friends are so distant to her now. Mulder has taken up every inch of available space in her life. This can’t be healthy, can it?

But she’s still here with him. She’s connected to him in a way she’s afraid to examine too thoroughly. Their partnership has become personal to them both, and she’s only starting to truly realize the implications of that; the consequences of that.

His behavior towards her the morning before she left for the Pudovkin case in Philadelphia was aberrant. She’s having trouble explaining it, or justifying it. Maybe he was upset that she’d tuned out the evening before while he was questioning a witness. Or maybe he was annoyed about having to use his vacation time; idleness in any form is a peculiar brand of torture for him.

In any event, his bad mood combined with her disgruntlement has pushed them both to a breaking point. Without even realizing what he’d done, he had cut her to the quick with his flippant attitude about something very important to her, to how she views their partnership. He’s always treated her as an equal, always. And his dismissal of something as seemingly trivial as a desk only augments its significance in her mind.

It isn’t about the desk. It was never about the desk.

Four years into their partnership and she honestly can’t recall feeling this angry at him before. It surprises her. She doesn’t like it.

She’s well aware that she hurt Mulder, too, though. She hadn’t meant to but she’d trivialized his life’s pursuit, and made him think she didn’t care when she does... of course she does. She wouldn’t be be here if she didn’t. And she truly believes he knows that, regardless of what was said between them.

So why was he so upset? Why had he been so unkind after she’d returned from doing his bidding, as always? It wasn’t like him. She still can’t make sense of it.

She’s convinced it can’t be because of Ed Jerse. Mulder has never shown any interest in her pursuing a social life other than to mock her for it. If she’s being completely honest, that very mockery is what led her to call Ed in the first place.

It was ill advised, the entire thing, but how the hell was she supposed to know Ed Jerse would turn out to be a psychopath? The frustration she was feeling had to express itself somehow and a mysterious handsome stranger seemed like the right outlet. He was nice. She found him attractive. They’d had a good conversation, a good connection. And quite frankly, she needed what he’d given her. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s body beneath her, everything that followed had almost been worth it.

Almost.

What had she been thinking? One night stands aren’t _her._  Getting tattoos with men she just met isn’t _her_. She’s having trouble admitting to herself she slept with Ed Jerse because she was angry with Mulder. It didn’t feel that way while it was happening. But she did. She knows this now, she just doesn’t quite know what it means. It was being thirteen and sneaking out of the house to smoke her mother’s cigarettes all over again.

Maybe she really did want Mulder to find out. Maybe she wanted to find out what he’d do. 

Being acknowledged by him and feeling like her work has meaning isn’t something she thought she’d have to work so hard to obtain at this juncture. It’s the first time in their partnership she’s felt devalued in such a way. It frustrates her to no end that she has to throw that concern in now with all her other concerns.

Chiefly, the very real concern that she’s dying.

Ever since she’d learned that the MUFON women in Allentown were all dying of cancer as a result of their abductions, she feared it may be a possibility for her. But as every day passed, she grew more and more hopeful that maybe her fears had been unfounded.

Now that she knows the truth, she dreads telling Mulder. The last thing she wants is to feel even less like an equal, to feel like someone fragile to be cared for or pitied. Just one more reason he needs to protect her.

As the phone rings, she realizes she picked up and dialed his number without even rehearsing what she’s going to say. Also, she forgot for a moment they are still kind of in a fight.

She idly wonders how someone can rely so heavily on another person and still feel so fucking lonely all the time.

 _“Hey, Scully,”_ he answers. He sounds apprehensive. She hopes that’s a good sign and not a bad one.

“Hi.” Suddenly she has no earthly idea how to proceed. “Um.”

_“Before you say anything, can I say something first?”_

“Okay.” She’d rather not be having this conversation at all, so she’s glad to delay it even for a moment.

_“I just want to say I’m sorry for being such an ass the other day. Especially considering what you went through, it was insensitive and wrong of me. It’s none of my business what you do on your own personal time. I don’t know… I don’t know why I acted that way and I’m sorry.”_

_Wow._

“I appreciate that, Mulder.”

_“Also, I… I didn’t really hear you when you were talking about the desk. I mean, I heard you, but I didn’t **hear** you. I’ve thought about it and you’re right. There’s no reason you shouldn’t have your own desk. I put a request into HR to get you one. We’ll figure out where to put it next week.”_

_Jesus. This is completely unexpected._

_“I hope you know that having you here isn’t just something I tolerate, Scully. You’re not just a box to be checked. I want you to be here. I just… I hope you know that, is all.”_

Weirdly, this fight feels so unimportant now. She doesn’t need the desk. She just needed to hear him say that.

“Mulder, thank you. And I hope you know it was never really about the desk.”

_“I do know. I know that now, believe me.”_

“Then cancel the request, okay? I don’t need it. I hate Battleship anyway.” She smiles and hears him laugh on the other end.

_“You sure?”_

“I’m sure. And thanks again. Thank you for hearing me.”

_“Of course. I always try to hear you, Scully.”_

She knows, but she’s glad he said it. Maybe there’s hope for their communication skills after all. “I… I actually called because I have something I need to tell you, and it’s not good.”

 _“What is it?”_ His concern is evident.

“Can you meet me right now?”

_“Yeah, of course. Are you at home?”_

“Actually I’m at Holy Cross Memorial.”

_“Are you okay?”_

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Meet me at oncology.”

_“I’m on my way.”_

She hangs up the phone and looks up at her brain scans, displayed on the wall like some macabre art exhibit. A proclamation of death demurred.

She called Mulder before she even called her mother. It had been automatic, like a nerve sending a signal to the brain that she has no control over. Somehow he’s a part of her, like a phantom limb she will always feel. This knowledge scares her, it gives her pause. She’s never been so dependent on another person in her entire adult life.

It’s always been hard for her to let people in, even the ones who are closest to her. She’s always looked out for herself, been tough, independent. It’s probably what attracted her to the FBI in the first place.

This feeling of powerlessness is strange territory for her. She’s well aware of Mulder’s proclivity to protect her, but she fears it now. This time it feels different. She’s vulnerable now, in more ways than one. It’s not his fault, either. It’s just who he is.

How is she going to tell Mulder she will someday have to give up on him? That they won’t be able to continue this journey together? How will she admit defeat, failure? And at what point will her body decide to give up on her, to give up on both of them?

She knows now, more than ever before, his life’s work is her own. His _life_ is her own. They are in this together, forever entwined. Maybe that’s what he was trying to communicate to her before, in their office. Maybe he’s already come to that realization. It took a cancer diagnosis to wake her up.

_“Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life.”_

_“Yes, but it’s…”_

She knows now.

_“...It’s my life, too.”_

 

***

 

 

They’re sitting in her apartment on the couch, a fire roaring, soft music playing, wine glasses in hand. It’s not a scenario she ever thought they’d be in together. Incredibly, something has happened. He’s made an effort to get to know her more socially and it’s confusing and exciting and a little scary.

“I’m seeing a whole new side of you, Mulder,” she says as she sips the wine. It’s not great wine. She’s not surprised. But with Mulder, it’s the thought that counts.

“Is that a good thing?” he asks. She looks at him, the contours of his chest visible through his gray T-shirt. She doesn’t get to see him much outside a suit and tie. The way it’s distracting her right now makes her a bit grateful for that fact. Just a little bit.

“I like it,” she confesses.

She does like it. This isn’t the kind of attention she’s used to getting from him. There’s no pretense to be in her apartment, no new autopsy notes to go over, no paranormal theories to discuss, no arguments over what to believe or not believe. Just two friends hanging out.

With wine. And music. And a fire. And thoughts about how he looks in his T shirt that are decidedly _un_ friendly.

“Do you ever wish you could go back and do it all differently?” Mulder’s voice is unusual, hushed. She’s not used to him talking to her like this. It’s sexy. _God help her,_ his voice is so sexy.

“Do you?”

His nod is barely perceptible but she sees it. As he shifts closer to her on the couch she knows exactly what he’s doing and she feels a rising panic inside her. Suddenly all the fears and doubts that have kept her from thinking about this very moment are real, and in her face.

_Oh god. What is he doing?_

As he inches closer and closer to her lips, her mind goes through a roller coaster of emotions.

Her first impulse is to tell him “no” but then her brain loses all control to the other parts of her body that just want him to kiss her, now.

They are mere inches apart when her apartment door bursts open and there is Mulder, again, looking disheveled and confused. She looks at one Mulder, then the other. She barely has time to register what’s going on but everything suddenly and disappointingly makes sense. Thoroughly grossed out, she pushes Eddie Van Blund _H_ t off her and moves away. The real Mulder’s face is inscrutable.

Everything comes to fruition in her mind in an instant. Maybe knowing she’s dying brings clarity she hadn’t had before. Maybe it’s the wine she’s been drinking all evening. Maybe it’s the hard fucking evidence that she was only just half a second away from pulling his mouth to hers and letting him take her right there on her couch. Whatever the reason, she can’t deny it anymore, she knows the truth.

She’s in love with Mulder.

Not the kind of love she’s always felt for him; the kind of love a best friend feels, or a partner, or a confidant. No... the kind of love that overwhelms her senses and reaches deep, deep down to every single part of her. The kind of love she’s been waiting her entire life for.

It’s difficult to believe she hasn’t realized it before now, but she’s actively worked so hard _not_ to fall for him that the opposite actually happening never concerned her. She’s kept herself so closed off for so long, it’s become difficult to see things that are staring her right in the face.

The disappointment she feels at this turn of events is painfully evident. She knows it wasn’t really Mulder saying any of those things to her, but what she knows now is how much she wanted it to be. She wanted him to be saying those things. She wanted it to be him, wanting to kiss her. She knows it.

And now she’s completely fucked.

Besides the fact that she has no idea how to convey any of this to him, she’s dying. If she tells him she’s in love with him, she’s dying. If she doesn’t tell him, she’s still dying. She doesn’t know what to do.

Not telling him is easier. She thinks she’ll stick with that.

After the police arrive and escort Mr Van Blund _H_ t back to jail, Scully starts cleaning up the wine glasses. This isn’t like the Ed Jerse situation; it’s much worse, because she feels like Mulder now knows something about her that she doesn’t know about him. Her walls have started to come down in front of him and she doesn’t like that feeling.

Thankfully, the embarrassment isn’t solely hers; as Mulder lingers near the doorway he can’t look her in the face. She secretly hopes he just leaves so she won’t have to explain herself.

“Do you think he could have drugged the wine?” Mulder asks.

She had opened and poured it herself. She knows this isn’t the case. But he doesn’t know that.

“Maybe.”

He nods and turns to leave. They won’t talk about it again.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

**(Redux II/ Emily)**

 

He races to the hospital as fast as humanly possible. He can’t believe what she’s told him, he has to see her for himself.

_Remission. She’s going to be okay. She’s going to live._

The pain he’d felt last night at her bedside was so intense he’d been utterly lost. He couldn’t fathom what he would do, how he could possibly move forward without her by his side. He can’t remember another time in his entire life he’d felt so alone. And he knows from lonely.

He’d actually considered joining forces with the cancer man, for fuck’s sake.

Oddly enough, that very consideration has got him thinking. When it comes right down to it, Mulder would give just about anything to save Scully’s life. He’s realizing protecting her has become his highest priority and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Solitude has been a comfort to him over the years. If he doesn’t get too close to someone, he doesn’t have to risk losing them. He’s remained focused, determined, undeterred in his quest. He hasn’t had to worry about distractions.

After the Diana fiasco, he made a conscious decision not to pursue any romantic entanglements that might distract him from his mission. It wasn’t for lack of desire or interest, just a lack of availability. He knew he’d be unable to give someone the time and energy required to maintain any kind of healthy relationship while remaining focused on his work.

He hadn’t counted on Scully showing up in his life and blowing that plan to pieces. The way their lives have become intertwined was something he could never have anticipated. Although proud of himself for keeping things between them mostly professional over the years, he’d be a fool to deny what he knows now is the truth: there is no other person he’d rather be with than her: professionally, intellectually, romantically, sexually, all of the above. He simply can’t imagine another scenario.

If that’s what love is, then that’s what he’s found. In spite of everything, even though he hasn’t been looking for it, somehow he’s found it here, on this godforsaken planet, in her.

He thinks it might be possible she loves him, too. But he doesn’t think it’s possible he will ever feel worthy of her.

He knocks and slowly peeks into her hospital room. “Scully?”

She’s laying on her side but she’s not asleep. He inches tentatively into the room, searching her eyes. She sits up and reaches for him. There are no words either of them need to say.

He goes to her and sits on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. His smile is so enormous he worries it might jump off his face and go flying around the room. He can hear her sniffling as she grips the back of his jacket, and one of her hands moves to the nape of his neck, fingers spreading into his hair. His body tenses. How does she know to do that, how much he likes that? Does she even know or is it completely unconscious?

He wishes they were something they aren’t, so he could kiss her. God, he just wants to kiss her. Why can’t he do that? It’s never the right time. Why can’t it just be the right time?

He knows that’s not the main reason. He knows the real reason: he’s afraid.

“I can’t believe it, Mulder. I really can’t.”

He doesn’t plan to let her go for a long time, so they just stay that way, holding onto each other.

“I’m so relieved, Scully. Do the doctors know what turned it around?”

“None of them can say for sure, but I’m never removing this goddamn chip again just in case.”

He laughs, and breathes her in. Considering she’s been stuck in the hospital for several days he’s amazed at how great her hair smells.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he hears the door open behind him, but he can’t see who it is from his vantage point. He soon realizes that the Scully family has arrived.

He releases her and turns around, finding Mrs. Scully’s eyes flooded with tears. He tries to avoid Bill Jr’s stare, but can feel it just the same. He wants to cut the guy a little slack. He loves his sister and is just looking out for her, much like himself.

He thinks of Samantha. He can relate.

“Oh, Dana!” her mother cries and runs to the bedside. Mulder starts to slide off the bed but Maggie envelops him into a three-way hug, and he returns it. He may not be Maggie’s family, but she is well aware he is her daughter’s.

“Fox, thank you for being here.”

Mulder smiles at Scully’s mother. He’s always liked her, liked how easy and welcoming she’s been with him over the years. In a way he envies the relationship she has with her daughter; his own mother hasn’t very often been the same reliable source of comfort and support for him over the years. Maggie has never questioned or doubted the devotion he and Scully share, and he feels grateful for that.

“I’ll be in the hall, Scully. You take your time with your family.” He takes her hand and kisses it, aware that Maggie is watching the two of them very closely.

As he gets up to leave, he and Bill Jr share a nod. He and this guy may never like each other, but in this moment they can push those feelings aside and acknowledge the relief and happiness they both feel.

Mulder extends his hand, tries to be companionable. As Bill takes it, he looks Mulder in the eye. “I’m glad you’re here for her.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else right now,” Mulder retorts. Their grasp tightens, then releases. It’s all he can say in this moment, all he feels comfortable saying. He hopes it’s enough for this guy to stop hating him.

He closes the door behind him and sits on a chair in the hospital hallway, where he waits. He will wait for the right moment to kiss her. He will wait for the right moment to tell her what she means to him. Waiting will become one of his new crusades.

For now, he will wait here for her until she needs him again. It’s where he belongs.

 

***

 

The car ride home from Emily’s wake has been quiet. He wants to talk to Scully, he’s just not sure how, or even about what.

It’s drizzling outside, both his hands are on the steering wheel. She’s turned away from him, looking out the window. Every once in awhile he hears a soft sniffle.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She won’t turn to face him. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He wants to be there for her, even if she thinks she doesn’t need him. He reaches out a hand to take hers, and she lets him. “If it’s any consolation, you did the right thing, Scully. Her suffering is over.”

“I know it is. I’m not feeling guilt, or regret, or anything like that. I know I made the best choice for her.”

“Then… are you okay?”

“It’s just... so unfair. So needlessly cruel, for God to bring a child into this world and allow her to suffer that way.”

He sighs. “I know this won’t help, but if you think that way, you have to concede that God lets this happen to multitudes of other children, every single day. We cannot save them all, Scully. All we can do is the best we can. That’s why we do the work we do.”

She squeezes his hand, knows he’s right.

“You need to keep telling yourself that, Scully. We are doing the best we can.”

“Maybe I’m just being selfish. Because I know you’re right. But I can only think of myself right now, and why this happened. I should never have even known Emily existed. But if I hadn’t, she may have suffered even more. I’m not sure how to feel. It’s almost as if… as if I shared in her suffering. As if she gave it over to me when she died. And now I’m suffering.” She pauses, considers this. “Maybe that’s what being a parent is.”

“Do you wish you’d never known about her?”

“No. She was my daughter, nothing can change that. I’ll always be glad I got to know her, even for those short precious moments. To see myself reflected back to me in a child… it’s something I never thought I’d get to see.”

He can’t help but feel a pang for her, for the loss of something she’d longed for. Not Emily specifically, but the chance to be a mother. It was stolen from her in her prime, and for no other reason than she had gotten tangled up with him and his mission. She may not feel guilt, but he certainly does.

“Emily wasn’t meant to be, Scully. The men who created her didn’t do it so you could know her, and love her. But you did, you got to love her, and as sad as this all is, that’s something worth holding on to.”

Scully turns in her seat, regards him thoughtfully. “Do you want to have kids someday?”

He glances sidelong at her, with a small smile.

She quickly explains. “I mean… I just mean, you know, in general. Is that something you ever think about?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I’m not opposed to the idea, but maybe I’m just jaded. It’s not a future I necessarily picture.”

As soon as the words escape his mouth he finds himself reconsidering. It’s not that being a parent is something he doesn’t want, it just hasn’t been a priority. But now that he’s openly said it’s a future he doesn’t think about, he can’t help but think about it.

Maybe he’s subconsciously written off the idea of having children because he knows Scully can’t have them. The thought burrows its way into his heart and he can’t shake it. Any kid he had the presence of mind to imagine has always been, in his heart, half his and half hers.

It’s silly; they aren’t even in a relationship. He loves her and he knows it, but this isn’t a conversation he can have with her right now. Just because he sees his future with her, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re sitting in this car together having never even kissed. It doesn’t change the fact that her heart is currently broken by the death of a child that should never have existed. A child that was created using her stolen ova, ova he knew about and never had the heart to tell her.

The two of them have issues that no couple, romantic or not, should ever have to deal with.

He remembers beating the shit out of Emily’s physician the other day. How his devotion to Scully had come pouring out of him in violence. The guy had deserved it, but it took him off guard. The anger and desperation he’d felt in that moment was something even he hadn’t been prepared to feel.

“Where do you think they took her?” Scully fingers the gold cross around her neck thoughtfully. “Some cold facility somewhere? Is she being picked apart as we sit here? Cut open? Researched? Or has she just been destroyed?”

Mulder shakes his head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“You knew she’d be gone. I should have suspected. After everything we’ve been through, Mulder. Why couldn’t I see that coming?”

He sighs. “You have an optimism I haven’t had in awhile. When I was in violent crime I saw so many horrible things, all the time. It does something to you, Scully. It takes away your hope. It chips away at your faith in humanity. I don’t often meet people who help renew that faith. Maybe it’s why I’m always out looking for aliens.”

“But I wouldn’t consider you a person without hope. Far from it.”

“Maybe since you’ve been around, things have been better. What can I say, Scully? You bring out the best in me.”

She can’t help but smile at him. He squeezes her hand and adjusts his fingers to interlock with hers.

“I don’t say this often enough, but I think you’re amazing, Scully.”

“You do?” She sounds touched.

“I do. It’s not easy doing what we do every day. You take a lot of crap for it, too. From your family, from others at work. In the face of all our dead ends, everything that’s happened to you, and all the terrible stuff we see. You keep on going. I think that’s amazing.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Mulder," she sighs. "But I don’t feel that way all the time. To be honest, on days like today all I want to do is give up.”

They drive in silence for a bit, the rain picking up a bit, the windshield wipers working harder.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“You know, you don’t have to do this, Mulder. I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to make me feel better.”

“I’m not," he insists. "I’m just being honest with you. You put all of yourself into this job even when you probably shouldn’t. You always defend me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to get stuck with you, Scully.”

“Stuck with me?” She raises an eyebrow, smiling.

“You know what I mean. If it had been anyone else sent downstairs to work with me I’d be out of a job by now. Or even dead.”

He can feel her gaze on him. He loves it and is unsettled by it all at once.

“I don’t think I could ask for a better partner, Scully. I’m thankful for you every day. I should tell you that more often.”

She looks down at their entwined fingers. He briefly glances down too, and for a moment he can’t tell which fingers are his and which are hers. She slowly traces circles with her thumb near his wrist, right at his pulse point. The gesture is romantic, sensual. He doesn’t want to read too much into exactly how much he’s enjoying it.

“I’m glad you’re my partner too, Mulder. Even though you’re stuck with me. I’m happy to be here.”

He pulls the rental car into Bill Scully Jr’s driveway and turns off the ignition. The car goes silent and they sit together for a moment, the rain pattering on the windows the only sound. She’s still doing the thing with her thumb and he wonders if she’s aware of the power she has over him, or if she’s completely oblivious to it. They look at each other, really look into each other’s eyes for the first time since they left the church, and he briefly considers going for it. He could lean in right now, here in her brother’s driveway, and change everything forever.

Before he makes a decision, she speaks and the moment passes.

“Are you coming in? Or do you have to catch your flight home?” She says it quietly and he can tell she wants him to stay.

He doesn’t really want to endure Bill Jr’s unpleasantness, but his flight isn’t for a few hours, and something deep inside is compelling him to stay with her. Besides, after all Scully has gone through this week, the least he can do for her is put up with her asshole brother for a couple hours.

“I’m coming with you.” He can’t help himself and pulls her hand to his lips to kiss it. He knows, truly knows he’s in deep. The only thing more real to him right now than his love for her is his fear. The only thing getting in the way is his own hesitation.

“Hang on, I’ll come around with the umbrella,” he tells her.

He walks around to the other side and helps her out of the car. He holds the umbrella over her head as she shuts the door, taking her hand again. She doesn’t typically tolerate these acts of chivalry with much patience, but for whatever reason she’s allowing it.

As they walk to the front door, holding hands, he wonders if he’s being inappropriate. They’re off duty, she’s grieving, maybe he’s taking advantage. But she squeezes his hand and makes no effort to let go. He’s just happy she seems to be feeling better. If she’s sending him any signals, he’s certainly not going to interpret them as such, not today.

Maggie Scully opens the door, smiling, and lets them inside. As she collects the umbrella, he glances over her shoulder into a mirror behind her and takes in the tableau of himself and Scully, hand in hand. He has the distinct awareness that they look like a couple.

Maybe they are. Maybe they always will be, regardless of whether or not they ever talk about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Never Again" is written by Glen Morgan and James Wong.  
> Dialogue from "Small Potatoes" is written by Vince Gilligan.
> 
> To read about Scully and Ed Jerse's "encounter" go [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058196)


	4. DEMARCATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She refuses to be some kind of third wheel in her own partnership. She doesn’t know how long she can hang around waiting for Diana Fowley to just go away. As possessive as she feels over Mulder, she has no real claim over him. Diana Fowley doesn’t either, though. In the end it’s going to be up to Mulder. He’s going to have to make a choice between the two of them: who he can really trust.
> 
> All she can do is hope he makes the right one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Scully's attitude in FTF after leaving Dallas and her attitude when she arrives at Mulder's apartment felt disparate. Something had to happen to get her to that place of defeat. Enter the Fowl One.
> 
> Dialogue from "Fight the Future" is written by Chris Carter.

**_DEMARCATION I_ **

**(The End)**

 

**SCULLY**

 

Diana Fowley.

_Diana Fowley._

Even the sound of her name feels disgusting in her mouth.

Scully is not an idiot. She knows where these feelings are coming from. She’s always been territorial of Mulder, whether she’s willing to admit it or not. The thought of him having had any kind of personal, romantic relationship with some other woman feels foreign to her. It’s a side of him she rarely has to see or even think about.

Phoebe Green leaps to her mind, the only other woman she’s ever had to imagine linked romantically to Fox Mulder, _her_ Fox Mulder. At the time it felt nonsensical for her to imagine that kind of claim over him. They’d been through a lot together even then, but it was silly to think of him that way. They weren’t dating. They weren’t having sex. They weren’t anything other than friends, work partners. She convinced herself she was being ridiculous and pushed those feelings aside. After a few days Phoebe Green was gone, out of both of their lives, and Scully’s thoughts rarely drifted there again.

But there’s something new lurking deep inside her now. This time, it feels different. Her stomach is full of knots and she feels ill. She’s terrified of the feelings this other woman has stirred inside her. Diana Fowley has had Mulder in a way that feels deeply personal: they discovered the X Files together. When the Lone Gunmen informed her of this, it was like a punch to the gut. The quest Scully and Mulder are on had actually begun with this other woman and it feels almost like a betrayal.

Why hasn’t Mulder ever mentioned her before? Had they been as close as she is with him? Has he shared things with her that he hasn’t shared with Scully? What was their partnership like?

Scully isn’t typically a jealous person, but something about Diana Fowley brings it out in her. And this jealousy is forcing her to confront the feelings she has for Mulder more intensely. She isn’t in any way ready to deal with this right now.

The Gunmen hadn’t elaborated much, and she hadn’t really wanted them to. It was embarrassing enough having to go to them in the first place about this. She couldn’t ask Mulder because she felt she knew the answer and didn’t want to hear him say it. But the Gunmen had said enough for her to know what she needed to know about the exact nature of this past relationship; this past relationship that has exploded into their present. This past relationship that is threatening their future. She isn’t sure how real the threat is at the moment but she doesn’t want to find out.

The jealousy, however, is real. She doesn’t recognize herself. It’s not like her to be thinking these things. Things like:

_Diana Fowley probably buys everything Mulder sells to her. She probably subscribes to every theory, agrees with every notion._

And:

_I’ll bet he likes that. I’ll bet he eats that up. It’s been a while._

Also:

_She calls him “Fox.” And he lets her. Ugh._

“You really don’t like her, do you? That other girl.”

The small voice comes from the other side of the motel room and it’s a statement, not a question. It startles her. Scully has been so deep in thought she’d forgotten she’s in a room with a mind reader. She doesn’t want to believe it’s even possible Gibson Praise can read minds but she knows he can. How else could this little boy know what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling?

She sighs. “I guess I can’t lie to you, can I, Gibson?”

“She doesn’t like you, either.”

Scully doesn’t need a mind-reader to tell her this.

“I know, you probably don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Hey, Gibson? Any way I can ask you to cut that out for a bit?”

He shakes his head no. “I’m sorry, Agent Scully, I really would if I could. Believe me.” He turns his attention back to the television and she considers letting it go, but something makes her keep talking.

“This is all very personal, and complicated, and… grown up. I know you’re a very smart kid, but you _are_ still a kid.”

He rolls his eyes. “I may be a kid, but I’ve seen enough ‘Friends’ to know what’s going on with you three.”

They sit in silence. Well, what’s silence to Scully. To Gibson, everything must be louder than life. The elephant in the room is large and in charge, and now that it’s been mentioned it’s nearly impossible for her to think about anything else.

She wonders if Gibson has taught himself how to do this, like a fisherman, extracting whatever thoughts he’s interested in like some special kind of magnet. Or perhaps he’s not interested in any of this at all, and her feeble excuse for a love life is just another television channel he can’t shut off.

“You like ‘Friends?’” She desperately tries to change the subject, put something in her mind other than thoughts that will make both of them uncomfortable.

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny.” He sounds companionable enough but he won’t face her, still looking straight ahead at the TV. She wonders if this is a tactic he uses to shut out unwanted thoughts. Maybe he can’t hear her anymore.

_Which is your favorite Friend?_

“Chandler probably,” he replies to the question she didn’t ask, without missing a beat. Well, so much for that.

She smiles and thinks of Emily for a brief moment. This kid reminds Scully a little bit of her. A smart, sweet kid with an entire potential future ahead of him but no one looking out for his best interests. She wonders yet again about the inherent cruelty of the world, and why some kids are subjected to it in such a way.

“You have a kid?” His voice brings her out of her dark thoughts and for the first time she’s grateful for it.

“I… did. She died though, a few months ago. I don’t really like talking about it.”

He looks truly sorry. “I’m sorry. If I’m not looking at you, it can be hard for me to tell when people are just thinking and when they’re actually talking. Especially when they say what they mean. That doesn’t happen very much.”

She smiles, finding this all so fascinating. This child is so amazing. There’s so much to be learned from him.

Her thoughts soon uncontrollably wander back to Mulder and Diana Fowley. They should be back here by now. They’re certainly together somewhere.

The jealousy rears its ugly head again. She can’t help but wonder what they’re doing, if she’s got her claws back in him yet. Maybe he’s kissing her. Maybe they’re having sex.

_Stop it, stop. STOP THINKING ABOUT THINGS._

“You know, Agent Mulder really likes you a lot,” Gibson offers out of nowhere, startling her out of her uncomfortable reverie.

“Thank you, Gibson,” she says in a voice that clearly tells him _that’s enough._

She does still have a job to do. She’s responsible for protecting him. She knows how important he is; probably the most important discovery she’s ever made. She can’t help but marvel that in spite of everything the poor kid is dealing with, he’s still trying to be sweet to her.

 _This is so embarrassing,_ she thinks. And Gibson knows she’s embarrassed. He knows everything. He’s just a kid. What if he’s reading other thoughts? Very private thoughts involving her and Mulder without dumb old Diana Fowley. Or even fantasies about what he looks like underneath his suits and _oh god stop this, please don’t think of something inappropriate, don’t don’t don’t_

“Agent Scully?”

“...Yeah?”

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He gets up and walks out of her view.

_Thanks, Gibson._

The bathroom door closes and she can only hope she’s alone again. She finds it peculiar that it isn’t until you’re having your every thought read by another person you realize how precious your own thoughts are to you.

_Agent Mulder really likes you a lot._

Well, of course he does. They’re good friends. Gibson, with all his abilities, can’t understand the nuances of an adult relationship, especially one as complicated as theirs. For God’s sake, even _she_ doesn’t understand the nuances of their relationship.

Whatever she may be telling herself not to feel, she and Mulder are both young, attractive people and they’re human. It hasn’t been easy to maintain professional boundaries, but she feels like they’ve had to. Their work is too important, and taking such a step would be a huge risk. There really is no other reason they haven’t crossed that line, even hastily, recklessly. God knows she’s wanted to.

She suddenly feels a strange sadness, almost like a loss, because obviously Mulder had taken that extra step with Diana Fowley. Knowing Fox Mulder would in fact _go there_ with his partner has made her rethink a lot of things. First of all, no wonder she hears so many rumors circulating all the time about herself and Mulder. Secondly, if the failure of his relationship with his ex is the real reason he hasn’t taken that step with her, then Diana Fowley has robbed her of that as well. And here she is again, and she has some kind of inexplicable hold on him. A kind of hold Scully doesn’t.

She refuses to be some kind of third wheel in her own partnership. She doesn’t know how long she can hang around waiting for Diana Fowley to just go away. As possessive as she feels over Mulder, she has no real claim over him. Diana Fowley doesn’t either, though. In the end it’s going to be up to Mulder. He’s going to have to make a choice between the two of them: who he can really trust.

All she can do is hope he makes the right one.

She hears the toilet flush, the sink running, and Gibson re-enters the room. Grateful for his reprieve, she tries to focus her mind on something else as he picks up the remote and starts changing channels.

 

**MULDER**

 

He can’t move. He can barely think. His entire life’s work is gone, all of it gone.

In the midst of the of ash and smoke, he can almost smell along with it his own blood, sweat and tears. And Scully’s. And all the victims whose cases, already buried deep in the basement with the only two people who cared, will now certainly never see any explanation or justice.

He stands there motionless for a good minute before he is even aware Scully is holding onto him, her hand on his bicep, her cheek pressed into his chest. Neither of them can speak, there is nothing to say. He knows she feels the loss, too, though it’s possible she feels it more acutely through his own pain.

This is how they survive, the two of them. This is how they carry on. Pain seeping out of one, into the other. Their burdens shared, their losses perceived by each other.

It isn’t a death, but it may as well be. The intensity of his grief and frustration becomes enough to pull him out of his trancelike state and he looks down at Scully. He wraps his arms around her and they stand there together, surrounded by firefighters and curious onlookers and the red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles outside streaming through the smoke into their charred office like some vaporous American flag.

How ironic, this institution of justice and hope and truth reduced to ashes.

The firefighters are slowly exiting, one by one. AD Skinner comes over to the two of them and rests a hand on Mulder’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he offers, glancing to Scully as well. Mulder believes he is. Skinner is probably the only other person in the building who truly understands how devastating this is to them.

“Let’s go, Mulder,” Scully says. “There’s nothing else to be done here.”

He nods and takes her hand, following her out of the office like a zombie. His mind races. Everything truly feels over now. He’d been too arrogant, too reckless in approaching the Attorney General about Gibson Praise. Gibson had disappeared and the only remaining witness, his attempted assassin, had been murdered. The cleanup that had taken place was swift and effective, executed according to plan. It became the perfect opportunity for the Justice Department to take a shot at him and Scully, at the X Files. He should have seen it all coming. He feels like a fool.

The fire was an obvious cover up if ever he saw one. He’s momentarily annoyed at its localization; how the arsonist made no effort to hide the fact that the X Files themselves were the target. Mulder knows more than anyone his work has been in danger for years, but they could have at least pretended it wasn’t such a clear cut attack against him. The hubris of that angers him even more.

Lost in his own thoughts he hasn’t realized Scully has driven him home. “Mulder.” She’s trying to get his attention. He feels dazed.

“Yeah.”

“We’re at your apartment.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want me to stay for a bit? Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m good. I’m okay.” He’s still just sitting there in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead.

“Are you… going to get out?”

“Out of what?”

She sighs, unbuckles her seat belt. “Come on, I’m taking you upstairs. You’re a mess.”

He somehow finds the presence of mind to open his car door and get out. He’s glad he didn’t have to ask her to stay, but he wants her there all the same.

He’s still walking slowly and distractedly behind her, so she uses her own key to let them inside. He heads straight to the couch and falls down over the armrest, face first, his feet dangling over the edge behind him. He hears Scully go into his kitchen and she returns with two beers. She pops off the caps and plops down next to his head, kicking her legs up onto his coffee table. She sighs deeply.

“What are we gonna do, Scully?”

She takes a sip of her beer and sets it on the table. “I don’t know, Mulder. We start again. We just start again.”

“There’s a zero percent chance they’ll keep the X Files open now. This fire was the final nail on the coffin. Nothing we say will change their minds.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think it’s possible someone at the Bureau did this? I mean, they’ve been trying and failing to shut us down for years. Maybe someone finally just snapped.”

“I think so.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“Spender,” he says instantly. “No doubt in my mind it was that little fucker. I should have taken his threats more seriously.” He can’t stand the guy. Going around the Bureau, kissing everyone’s asses, covering his own to protect his reputation.

Working with the cancer man.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she muses. “Arson? It honestly seems like he doesn’t have it in him.”

He thinks for a second, and realizes she’s probably right. He’s usually good at this profiling stuff, obviously, but his annoyance and frustration with Jeffrey “Weasel” Spender has gotten too personal.

“You’re probably right.”

“We should tell the arson investigators to keep their eyes peeled for cigarette butts, though,” she suggests. She rubs his back for a moment then taps his neck, indicating he should lift his head up. He flips onto his back and scoots over a bit, resting his head in her lap. She runs her fingers through his hair with one hand, her other hand across his chest and they sit together comfortably.

“I’m still in this with you, Mulder. This is a temporary setback, okay? We have to have faith that we will continue our work.”

Mulder thinks back to another time, an even darker time about a year ago, here in his apartment, alone. A time when his faith had also been tested. A time when Scully was edging towards death, all because of him and this work.

He’d felt so alone that night, so aggrieved, so desperately responsible for what had happened to her. He’d really wanted to die. He thought he deserved it. Everything felt meaningless. He believes to this day if that DoD agent hadn’t been spying on him and revealed himself that night, he would have pulled the trigger.

He almost can’t breathe when he thinks about what would have happened if he’d given up in that moment. Scully would have died. They both would be dead, and so would their quest.

Tonight feels different because she is here with him. He could be alone right now, feeling desperate and directionless and miserable by himself. But she chose to stay. His life isn’t so lonely anymore, and for the first time he truly appreciates that fact.

He takes her hand with both of his, holding it across his chest and lays there, her other hand absently stroking his hair, listening only to their own breaths, rising and falling in sync.

“As long as I’ve still got you, it’ll be fine,” he decides. He truly believes this.

 

 

**DEMARCATION II**

**(Fight the Future)**

 

**SCULLY**

 

Scully’s meeting with the Office of Professional Review had not gone well. Being forced to take a step back after getting so close to something big has become her lot in life.

AD Cassidy had not been impressed with the evidence she and Mulder had brought back from Dallas. Scully had trouble explaining its significance to a room full of directors in a way they could understand and be excited about in the same way she and Mulder could. Now they don’t have the means or permission to follow up, and with the trouble they’re in, they aren’t likely to get it.

Now, not only have they removed her as Mulder’s partner, they’re trying to remove her from his life entirely. They’re sending her clear across the country to another field office with little choice in the matter. She’s amazed at their ability to do so with a single pen stroke.

Her only other option would be to quit. Either way she loses him.

They’ll do what they can, she knows it. They will move forward, in whatever way they can. They always do.

She presses the elevator button and waits. The doors open and she’s greeted by a face she’d secretly hoped she would never have to see again.

Diana fucking Fowley.

She briefly considers waiting for the next elevator, but that kind of avoidance is beneath her, childish. She purses her lips together and steps in, pressing the ground floor button. “Agent Fowley,” she says politely. “Nice to see you’re back at work.”

“Thank you, it’s good to be back.”

She can feel Fowley’s eyes upon her, and instantly regrets not stopping in the bathroom to tidy herself up. She hasn’t even showered since they got back to DC and she looks like shit. Her appearance isn’t typically something that concerns her too much, and she hates feeling this way. She hates feeling inferior to the always well put together Diana Fowley.

Scully prays the elevator stops at another floor for another passenger to end this awkwardness but God isn’t listening today.

“How’s Agent Mulder?” Fowley asks.

Scully pauses, not sure what her angle is. “He’s fine.”

“I heard through the grapevine you two are getting reassigned. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Scully is silent, not knowing what to say. _I’m sure you are._

“It’s probably for the best. From what he indicated, you two haven’t been seeing much progress.”

Scully bites her tongue and stares at the doors.

_Open, open, open. Please._

Apparently, Diana Fowley isn’t fucking finished. “But it must be hard, disagreeing all the time. You both must feel such a relief to be free of that. To not feel… so held back.”

She can’t continue with the silent treatment, she doesn’t want to appear impertinent. “We make it work.” Scully speaks in the present tense because Mulder _is_ her partner, regardless of what OPR or Diana Fowley has to say about it.

Fowley scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ve got it all figured out. _His_ passion, _his_ drive. _His_ mission. It’s all wonderful until you realize it’s not aligned with your own.”

She starts to feel sick, and wonders why the elevator ride never feels this long on any other day.

“Just be grateful it never went further than a work partnership. He’s tough to shake.”

Scully feels like she might actually throw up. How the hell does she know how far their relationship has gone? Every word is a dagger.

Mercifully, the elevator dings and the doors open.

“Goodbye, Agent Fowley,” Scully grits as she exits the elevator and heads through the lobby as quickly as reasonably possible towards the sweet relief of the sidewalk. She pushes the heavy door open and takes a deep breath.

She doesn’t care which direction she walks, she just has to get away from this building. Mulder had dropped her off directly from the airport and she’d planned to take a cab back to his place after the meeting, but now she doesn’t know what to do or where she should go.

How can one woman put her so off balance? Make her feel so small, so worthless? How can the words of someone she barely knows bring her down like this?

She’s suddenly questioning everything, everything she knows and trusts about Mulder, everything about their partnership, and for what? Why? Because of one woman who has had him in a way she never will.

Why did she have to take that elevator? She felt fine before she ran into her. She’d felt hopeful that something good might still come of all this.

_You both must feel such relief to be free of that. Not… so held back._

Why did she say that? Had Mulder said something like that to her? It makes her ill to think they’d talked about her behind her back. What if she really is just an annoyance to him, in spite of everything he’s said? She knows he cares about her as a friend, and she’s never going to question that. But is he humoring her about their partnership? Do they even have a real partnership if he’s not being honest with her about her role within it?

She can’t change who she is to better suit his needs. She can’t become someone she isn’t, even for him. She feels inadequate, and completely powerless. Maybe it’s just her own fear and self doubt, but she’s inclined to believe what Diana Fowley is saying.

Of course he would feel that way. She’s been so stupid.

_His passion, his drive. His mission. It’s all wonderful until you realize it’s not aligned with your own._

It’s taken her awhile to realize it but she knows she _is_ passionate about this work. Maybe not for the same reasons as Mulder, but their goal is the same: uncovering the truth. What were Diana Fowley’s goals? What had she wanted that Mulder hadn’t wanted? What caused their breakup?

_He’s tough to shake._

If she wasn’t sure before that Diana Fowley has ulterior motives regarding Mulder, she’s sure now. She wants to kick herself for not telling him how she felt before this woman came back into his life. It pains her to think that she might know Mulder even better than Scully does.

She knows what she has to do now. She slowly turns around and heads back towards the Hoover building for what she now knows will be one of the last times.

He’ll probably be secretly glad to be rid of her. She’s done nothing but hold him back.

 

**MULDER**

 

_They’re splitting us up._

He knows it must be true. He and Scully have tugged at the FBI’s last remaining thread of patience, and they’ve finally had it. And just when they are finally onto something again, something big.

His thoughts return to their imprudent excursion to Dallas and what they’d discovered. They’d both seen so much, but only put the X Files in further danger of remaining closed forever. If only they had been able to turn up something concrete, something to help justify reopening them, they could get moving again. He feels so close now, closer than ever, but ever since their office went up in flames he’s been losing his resources one by one.

Now he’s about to lose his most valuable resource.

“Salt Lake City, Utah, transfer effective immediately.” Scully looks exhausted, depleted. Sad, really. She tells him she isn’t accepting the transfer, and that she’s resigned from the FBI.

“I _need_ you on this, Scully.”

“You don’t need me, Mulder. You never have. I’ve only held you back.”

Her assertion takes him completely aback. Where the hell is this coming from? Does she really believe that after all they’ve been through? How can she not know how much he needs her?

She turns to go. He’s let her walk out on him in the past, but he’s not going to let her do it tonight. He walks after her.

“If you want to tell yourself that so you can quit with a clear conscience, you can, but you’re wrong.”

She whips around, looking angry, but mostly just defeated. “Why did they assign me to you in the first place, Mulder? To debunk your work, to reign you in, to shut you down.”

“But you saved me!” He can’t believe he has to tell her this. It’s felt so obvious to him for so long. It goes to the very core of why they are so good together. “As frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamn strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over.”

This is what he hasn’t been able to get across to her, because it would mean talking about Diana and all the reasons that partnership could never have worked the way he functions with Scully. He let Diana walk out on him for a hundred reasons but primarily because they could never have gotten to this place of honesty. Not like he can with Scully.

She knows it too, she _knows it_ , and she’s still leaving him. Maybe Diana got to her, somehow. Maybe she can’t bring herself to admit to him that Diana has left her feeling weak and insufficient.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

“You kept me honest,” he tells her. He’s never been so honest with _her_ before. Her eyes are filling with tears. She’s about to leave him, maybe forever, so he brings it home.

“You made me a whole person.”

She looks floored. She’s completely turned around now, facing him. He knows now she's needed to hear all of this, is desperate to hear it. He wonders if she’s always needed to. He’s hasn’t communicated this as well as he should have and it’s his own damn fault. He’s been so selfish for so long. She’s lost so much because of him and here she is, still seeking his approval. He feels so inadequate, so unworthy of her.

“I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing.”

It’s the truth. She could leave right now, and he’d never begrudge her that. He’d miss her endlessly, but he’d never deny her that choice, if she truly wanted it. He could never deny her anything.

“I don’t know if I want to do this alone,” he confesses. “I don’t even know if I can. And if I quit now, they win.”

He’s not sure what makes her give in, what makes her change her mind, or if she even has. She’s not one to be at a loss for words. But at this moment she can only collapse into him, resigned. She’s committed to him whether he can bring himself to believe it or not.

As he holds her close he feels something stir inside him that has lain dormant for five years. Dormant, yet vigilant. She kisses him on his forehead, a safe, tender gesture they’ve shared in the past. But he feels something inside him he hasn’t felt with her before: bravery. He wants more.

He takes her face in his hands, and makes her look at him. He looks into her eyes with new intent, something he hopes beyond hope she wants too.

She could walk out of his life at any moment. It’s now or never.

He’s not doing this to make her stay. He’s doing it because he can’t _not_ do it anymore.

Their faces search each other’s and he draws closer and closer, slowly, the anticipation intoxicating. He knows it’s going to happen because she’s moving towards him too.

And just as he can feel her breath on his tongue she yelps and recoils.

At first he’s unsure of what happened. Did she change her mind? He was so sure it had felt right.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He wouldn’t want her to think he’d taken advantage.

“No,” she reassures him. “Something stung me.” She reaches back behind her neck and pulls the offending interloper from inside her collar.

A bee.

He wants to laugh at the irony. The bee is there because of him, and now it’s completely ruined his moment.

 _Goddamnit._ Why is the universe making this so hard for them?

“It must have gotten in your shirt,” he says quietly, the disappointment still painfully present.

“Mulder? Something’s wrong.”

_You’re goddamn right something’s wrong. We should be making out right now._

But she looks afraid. She starts to grab onto him for support, slowly sliding down to the floor. She’s listing off all her symptoms to him, ever the doctor. He tries to remember everything in case she’s unable to tell the paramedics… oh god, he has to call the ambulance.

He lays her down gently and runs back to his phone to report an agent down. When he returns, she appears almost completely incapacitated.

“Scully? Hey, Scully?” He holds her cheek and moves the hair from her face. “Don’t do this, come on. I’m getting you to a hospital.” He wraps his arms underneath her and hoists her up. She’s gone completely limp and this hold is not going to work. He turns her in his arms until he’s cradling her, lifts her up, and starts to head towards the elevator.

As he emerges from his building, he hears the sirens approaching. _Thank god._ The paramedics  jump out of the ambulance and help Mulder place her onto a gurney.

“Scully, the paramedics are here. I’ll be right behind them, okay? I’m coming.”

He starts frantically telling the paramedics her symptoms and mentions the virus he’s certain has caused this. As he approaches the driver’s seat to ask which hospital they’re taking her to, everything goes black.

 


	5. ANTICIPATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They’ve backed themselves into a corner now. Something is going to happen at some point, there’s no avoiding it. They’ll both be anticipating it. And now that they know this, the tension is going to be agonizing. It’s going to be unbearable.
> 
> It’s going to be fucking hot."

**_ANTICIPATION_ **

 

**SCULLY**

**(The Rain King)**

 

A bee had ruined their moment, and now a cow was bringing them a bit of honesty.

They are in Kroner, Kansas. The unfortunate animal had been caught in a tornado caused by the pent-up emotional frustrations of one Holman Hardt, and Mulder’s motel room had been the main casualty. With no more rooms available, he and Scully have been forced to share her room.

This has happened before a few times and it’s never been an issue. A broken shower here, a booked up motel there, Mulder on the pull-out couch, letting Scully take the bed. He’s always been respectful, and it’s never felt awkward.

This time, however, she feels a little strange about the whole thing. They still haven’t acknowledged that he’d tried to kiss her in his hallway. There was a line, a hard line that had always been present and he’d tried to cross it.

She’d wanted him to, badly, but he hasn’t attempted it again and now she’s starting to feel like he won’t. Like maybe the entire thing was a mistake, and they both know it.

She’s confused, and the longer they take to talk about it the more confused she gets.

_You made me a whole person._

God, had he really said that? It was the single most romantic thing any man had ever said to her, and they aren’t even in a romantic relationship. She’ll never forget he said that to her. What is she supposed to do with that now?

They’re off the X Files, but that hasn’t stopped Mulder from pursuing every lead he has the good fortune to come across. And it hasn’t stopped her from getting in the car and following him wherever he goes. She knows she will always go with him. In spite of everything, she loves this work. It energizes her, excites her, especially in the face of all the scut work they’ve been reassigned to after getting kicked off the X Files. Background checks and surveillance are not her idea of an enlightening day at the office, not after all she’s seen.

Mostly though, she just misses Mulder. It’s weird not being his partner anymore. She misses his crazy theories and his sunflower seeds and his sexy gray T shirts.

This isn’t getting any easier, that’s for sure.

That near-kiss has changed something. She suspects why they haven’t mentioned it. Acknowledging it will force them to make a decision: go this way, or go that way. She’s not sure if that’s a better route than the one they seem to have chosen, which is to do nothing at all. But she also isn’t sure she’s ready to make that decision.

Her brain is telling her it’s stupid, they have too much riding on their partnership, they have to get the X Files back, and this could ruin everything.

But her heart is telling her without a doubt that she loves him, and not in the way she’d always thought she loved him. No… she _loves_ him. Isn’t that worth something? Isn’t that more important than anything else?

She’s trying her hardest to convince herself otherwise.

If he hasn’t made a move since the bee fiasco, he probably doesn’t feel the same way. She has to believe this, because she has no other choice. There are a million reasons she can think of to explain why he tried to kiss her in that moment. Maybe he did it to make her stay. Maybe he was attempting to satisfy a curiosity. Maybe he got caught up in the moment. Maybe he’s just… a _guy._ Every one of these reasons is a more likely scenario than the one where he is in love with her too and everything suddenly becomes perfect.

They are not that lucky. She should be used to this disappointment by now.

But she has to admit something is definitely different. His honesty in the hallway that night was something she'd been waiting for, and she didn't even know it. And she’s having trouble denying there was _something_ there. Something physical between them that she knows has always been there. What she felt with him in that moment was something even she wouldn’t need scientific evidence to prove.

He felt it, too, she’s certain of that much. If she isn’t quite sure of the emotional impact of what Mulder started that night, she definitely knows the physical. He’s always trying to touch her now, even more than before, and she’s noticed.

They’ve been dancing around this for years. And continuing in this limbo after experiencing what she felt in his hallway is making things awkward.

Making things like sharing a motel room awkward.

Right now, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed surrounded by local Kroner newspaper articles, poring over them with that ferocity she admires. It’s amazing how involved and animated he can get over every single one of these cases. Sometimes she can’t quite get there, but he always can, and it’s pretty remarkable. He’s trying to explain to her his theory of what’s causing the strange weather in Kroner.

“Maybe the way someone feels can affect the weather, maybe the weather is somehow an expression of Holman Hardt’s feelings? Or better still, the feelings that he’s not expressing?”

She’s skeptical, but what he’s saying does make a lot of sense. He’s probably right. Why does he always get to be right?

She doesn’t really know why, but she suddenly feels a tiny spark of courage. She has to know, she has to put it out there.

“Mulder, can I ask you something? Something unrelated to the case?”

He distractedly looks at the article he’s holding. “Yeah. Hmm?”

“A while back. Outside your apartment. In the hallway.”

He puts the article down and looks up at her. He rests his elbows on his knees, propping his chin up, and puts his index fingers together against his lips, his eyes daring her to continue.

“Mm-hmm?”

Suddenly she doesn’t know what to say. But now the cat’s out of the bag. “What was that about?”

He inhales, then exhales. “We’re doing this, I guess?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He thinks a minute. “I don’t know, Scully.”

What was she thinking? Of course he’d say that. Why would she expect anything else? “You don’t know?”

“I’m not gonna lie, I wanted to do it.” His eyes search hers, and she wants to tell him she wanted him to, too, but her mouth has gone completely dry. “Something came over me… I did want to kiss you. I’m attracted to you, Scully. I am. I said it.”

Her heart is in her throat and she can’t reply. She stares at him, her face frozen.

He continues. “But… I was careless, I think… it would have been a mistake?”

He’s saying it as a question, like he’s feeling her out. She should have said something and she blew it. What the hell is she supposed to say to him now? She has to agree it would have been a mistake. He’s practically forcing her to.

He’s probably even right.

She has the distinct impression he’s waiting for her to give him permission to go for it. She really wants him to go for it but her mouth cannot form the words. God, why is she such a wimp? Why is _he_ such a wimp? Why can’t they get their shit together? She wants to shake him. Hell, she wants to shake herself.

“You’re attracted to me?” is what she blurts out.

_Oh, my God, where did that come from? How is this a thing that is happening? This is beyond embarrassing._

Mulder cocks his head and gives her a slight smile. “Is that a crime?”

He’s being so calm, so charming about all this, all she can do is smile back and raise a brow. “No. Not a prosecutable one, anyway.”

This is nothing too revelatory, if she's being honest. They both know the other is attractive. Saying it out loud is merely a baby step towards something else, something neither of them will step up to. She wishes she could tell him everything she’s feeling, but she can’t. This is not easy. Nothing is ever easy when it comes to the two of them.

But the way he’s looking at her has taken her so off guard she’s worried she’s losing the upper hand. For some reason that feels very important right now. Before she realizes what’s happening, she’s made the decision to retreat. 

“But... you’re probably right. About it being a mistake.” She can’t be entirely certain but she thinks she sees a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “I mean,” she continues, “we probably shouldn’t let that kind of thing interfere with our partnership.”

He nods, smiling. His eyes don’t leave her own. “Probably shouldn’t,” he agrees slowly, tapping his fingertips against his bottom lip.

 _He’s doing that on purpose,_ she thinks. _There’s definitely something here. We both feel it._ She doesn’t know exactly what “it” entails, but it’s the sliver of hope she’s been waiting for. Maybe he’s been waiting for it, too. Their timing has never been the greatest.

He grins at her, and she grins back.

“It would be the wrong time to… pursue something like that, I think,” she says carefully. She’s toying with him right back. She knows it’s probably stupid but she does it anyway.

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Right.”

His eyebrows go up. “I mean… it wouldn’t be the end of the world or anything, but… it would complicate things.”

“Uh huh.”

They are still grinning like idiots. They both know what’s going on. They wanted to kiss each other, and it’s brazenly obvious. Part of her wants to leap across the room and push him back down onto the bed, but another part of her thinks what they’re doing right now is actually kind of fun, too.

She can’t deny the irony of sitting in this shared motel room with the man she’s in love with, who may or may not be in love with her too, having just been discussing Holman Hardt’s inability to express his true feelings. She wonders if he’s thinking the same thing.

Like so many conversations between them, this one will end in a stalemate. But they’ve come to an understanding, a tiny one, that someday this could be in the cards for them.

Apparently there was a third option open to them: go this way, or that way... or this other way.

 _Huh_.

“So.” He can’t stop smiling and it’s chipping away at her resolve. She has a sneaking suspicion they’re both fishing for something, but neither of them are biting. Neither of them will make the first move. They’re convincing themselves not to do something they both really want to do and she doesn’t want to forget the reasons they aren’t going to do it. Whatever the hell those reasons are. So she needs to put a stop to this, now.

“Well.” Scully stands up. “I’m going to take a shower. Can you move all this stuff off the bed before I get out?”

His eyes don’t leave hers as she stands. “Absolutely. You enjoy yourself,” he winks.

 _Okay,_ she thinks. _I see what we’re doing here. This could be fun._

She smirks at him and turns around to head toward the bathroom, grateful he can’t see her face flush. Her stomach is full of butterflies.

They’ve backed themselves into a corner now. Something is going to happen at some point, there’s no avoiding it. They’ll both be anticipating it. And now that they know this, the tension is going to be agonizing. It’s going to be unbearable.

_It’s going to be fucking hot._

As she undresses and gets into the shower, she can’t stop smiling. She thinks of Mulder smiling back, his eyes bright, looking into hers. Her partner. Her best friend. And now, just maybe, she can look forward to the possibility of something else too.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

**(One Son/ Arcadia)**

 

Ever since they’d had their little chat, Mulder has felt oddly at ease around Scully. It’s as if they’d both communicated something to each other that they already knew, but putting it out there has lifted a huge weight off their shoulders.

Although, it’s strange… it’s as if he’s been given permission to feel a certain way but not necessarily permission to act on those feelings. At least, not yet. He isn’t sure what to _do_ about them, either. Just because they both sort of decided not to act on them doesn’t mean the feelings would disappear.

He wasn’t avoiding the topic either when he told her it wouldn’t be a good idea right now. He genuinely believes that. When he and Diana had moved those boundaries, it was fun for awhile, but she became more of a distraction than anything else. It makes him uncomfortable to imagine the same thing happening with Scully.

He wasn’t able to get all the information he wanted from her that night, however. He wonders if it’s possible she just wants something physical, some release, a way to ease the tension of their work. And while he certainly isn’t opposed to that in theory, he wants more. He _is_ opposed to sending her mixed messages about how he feels about her.

These feelings are different than the way he felt about Diana; he’s older now, and wiser. This could be something, _really_ something, he can’t deny that. But he also can’t deny the possibility that pushing this relationship into nonprofessional territory could affect their work, or worse, their partnership in general. If they change, everything could change. He’s not sure he wants that, at least not right now.

And Diana… where the hell is she, anyway? He’s a bit ashamed of how easily the cancer man got to him, convinced him to just give up. And then he and Diana just disappeared together.

Is it a coincidence? He hopes so. It’s not that he doesn’t want Scully to be right about Diana. He just doesn’t want to be wrong about her. Diana had almost completely left his mind until the moment she decided to enter his life again. That’s how it always was with her, she’d decide. Her decision. It had never been about them, just her.

She even called him Fox, because she liked it. _Fox,_ she still says. Like none of the times he asked her not to ever even mattered. He hadn’t told Scully the whole truth… that the real reason he doesn’t want her calling him Fox is because it’s what Diana called him.

_You knew her. You don’t anymore._

Scully’s words had gone right to his core. He really doesn’t know Diana anymore. The Diana he knew wouldn’t abandon the X Files like that. She’d abandon him, of course, but not the work. Never the work.

He’s disappointed in himself for shrugging off Scully’s concerns so quickly. He’d interpreted her digging up information on Diana behind his back as a betrayal of his judgment, when he should have suspected she was simply being territorial; the two of them tended to do that with each other from time to time.

But still, he’d closed himself off to her very valid concerns. He’d allowed old feelings to come rushing back and he’d become guilty of the very thing he had tried to avoid for so long: blind trust.

_Without the FBI, personal interest is all I have. And if you take that away, then there is no reason for me to continue._

Scully was right, and he should have listened. He should have known better. He feels guilty now for making her feel that way. Six years into their partnership and he trusts Scully more than anyone he’s ever known… certainly more than Diana. How had he let Diana get to him this time? Even before, this was how she’d always operated. She was a manipulator. And he’d fallen for it again.

Well, Diana is out of their hair now. It’s not like he’s surprised at her sudden retreat. She’s done it before.

Right now he only wants to think of Scully. One day he will have to tell her how he feels about her. But for the moment, he hesitates. They are in the midst of starting back on the X Files and throwing in a new wrinkle wouldn’t be wise at this juncture.

There’s definitely something dark and mysterious afoot in this suburban neighborhood. He’s not sure if they are in actual danger yet, but his hunches about these cases have always been fairly accurate and he’s definitely feeling one now.

He does know this perfectly manicured house might just give him hives if they have to stay here much longer.

Mulder hasn’t been on many undercover assignments and he isn’t a great actor, so instead he’s just decided to be himself and annoy Scully endlessly with over-the-top affection. He likes hearing her say the “exasperated” version of his name, at least when they are alone. But it seems like she’s having a bit of fun at his expense, too.

He’s in the bedroom next door to Scully’s, and he’s having trouble falling asleep. There’s only a thin wall between them. He can visualize the master bedroom and knows her head is on the other side of it, mere inches from his. It’s oddly exciting.

He knocks on the wall behind him. “Scully? I can’t sleep.”

Her voice is muffled, probably face down on her pillow. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mulder.”

“Will you sing to me?”

“No.”

“Come on, you did before.”

“Only because you were dying, or something.”

“Can I come in there?”

“Muuuuulderrrrr. I’m trying to sleep.”

“So am I! You’re not going to help out your fake husband?”

“Oh my god. Fine.”  _Ah, Exasperated Scully._

He chuckles and grabs his pillow. Rounding the door jamb and entering her room, he flops down on the king sized bed next to her.

“Mulder! What are you doing?”

“Ooh, your bed is comfy. The mattress is better than mine.”

She sighs, loudly. He can tell, even in the dark, that she’s rolling her eyes. “Stay on your side.”

“Are we in a fight, Laura?”

He hears her laugh and is reassured he hasn’t made her uncomfortable. 

She sighs. “Why can’t I ever say no to you?”

“Because it’s your wifely duty?”

She playfully swats at him. “I’m serious, Mulder.”

“Okay, okay.” He gets under the covers and settles his head on his pillow, looking at the ceiling, shamelessly giddy to be sleeping next to her tonight. He has no idea how that happened, but here they are.

He hears her take a deep breath. “What’s wrong, Mulder? Why can’t you sleep?”

He doesn’t know. “I don’t know.”

They lay there quietly together for a minute.

“Scully, is this really what you want to be doing?”

“What, trying to sleep with you hogging the covers?”

He releases some of his covers for her and flips onto his side. “I mean working on the X Files.” It’s something he’s been wondering since the day she almost walked out on him at his apartment.

“Of course it is,” she says. “I think… regardless of how it may appear sometimes, this is where I’m meant to be. On this journey, with you.”

“I do think about the alternative sometimes,” he admits.

“What alternative?”

“You, being somewhere else. Doing something else. This... place has got me thinking. About what you said about wanting a normal life.” He thinks of a car ride in Groom Lake, Scully looking out the window wistfully, him not really taking her too seriously. Maybe he should have.

“Really? You think about that?”

“Not because I want you to be somewhere else. It’s just… well, being stuck down in the basement isn’t exactly a career objective. You should be my boss by now, Scully.”

She laughs. “I wonder what I’d let you get away with if that were the case.”

“I wonder.”

He hears her shift in the bed and now they are facing each other. “I don’t know, Mulder. Maybe you were right when you said this is normal. Maybe it is, at least it is for you and me.”

 _You and me._ He likes the sound of that when she says it.

“I’d hate to think you were changing your definition of normal because of me,” he says.

“I meant what I said after they reopened the X Files. My work is here now, with you.” Her hand is reaching out, looking for his. She finds his forearm and slides her hand up to find his in the dark, and as she closes her fingers around his, he squeezes back. He feels a jolt of electricity, like he usually does when they do this, and is keenly aware that they are in bed together, inches apart, holding hands. It feels so intimate, but so comfortable.

“This is where I want to be, Mulder. I promise.”

He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear her say that until the words came out of her mouth. It’s a relief, they are finally back where they need to be, and she wants to be here with him.

“I’m glad to hear that, Scully.”

It’s taking every ounce of his willpower not to pull her into him. For a million reasons he can think of, primarily that what they’re currently doing is already an extremely inappropriate flouting of Bureau regulations, he doesn’t.

He knows even that’s a lie because since when does he give a shit about the rules?

The real reason is that he’s afraid. Afraid of what it will mean, of where it will lead, of possible rejection, of consequences, all of the above.

While he’s pondering this she makes the decision for him, turning her back to him and scooting her body into his until he’s spooning her from behind. His stomach flutters and he prays to the God he doesn’t believe in that his body doesn’t react the way it wants to. In any case, she doesn’t seem to mind. She exhales deeply, contented.

“Goodnight, Rob.”

He grins. “Good night, Laura.”

They fall asleep like little baby cats.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "The Rain King" written by Jeffrey Bell.  
> Dialogue from "One Son" written by Chris Carter & Frank Spotnitz


	6. CONVICTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Curiously, the inner conflict he feels seems to dissipate when she’s standing in front of him, looking into his eyes. It seems to fall away, and the only thing remaining is the two of them. Maybe this is what being in love is, he wonders. Maybe he’s never really felt it before. When he looks at her, and she looks back at him, his resolve strengthens. He endeavors to deserve her because she is everything he needs."

**_CONVICTION_ **

 

**MULDER**

**(Amor Fati/ Millennium)**

 

She comes to him at last.

Just out of his peripheral vision, she approaches his hospital bed. He feels like it’s been weeks since he’s seen her and he wants to take her hand, but he can’t move; the drugs have rendered him motionless. It isn’t fair that he can’t look at her. He knows it’s her, though, because the room felt gray before, and now it has light. He tries desperately to turn his head towards her voice.

She comes into view and he can tell by her expression she wasn’t expecting him to be this bad. Her lips remain closed but he can still hear her.

He can hear her thoughts, plain as day.

_Don’t give up. Please stay with me, Mulder. Fight. I can’t do this without you. Please hold on._

He tries to speak to her, but she can’t hear him at all. He is screaming inside.

_Scully! SCULLY! I’m here! I’m right here!_

He thinks this might be it. He’s probably going to die this time. Evading death is something he’s been good at for a long time but perhaps his number is finally up.

She takes his hand and her touch overwhelms his senses. It’s the only comfort he’s felt since he arrived in this hospital, and he wishes he could give her some kind of sign he can hear her.

She’s trying to tell him about the spacecraft she’d found in Africa, but she’s keeping it simple. His comprehension at the moment isn’t the best. First and foremost a doctor, she’s well aware of the pain he’s in.

But as he watches her, listens to her, in an instant he realizes the one thing he should have known all along: when she speaks to him, her words and her thoughts are one and the same. Diana, Kritschgau, even Skinner… all of them liars in one way or another.

But Scully isn’t like them, not with him. She is true. She is his truth.

She squeezes his hand, and he knows she’s trying her hardest to be strong. She thinks that’s what he needs, is for her to be strong for him. But she’s trying not to fall apart.

Most importantly, above everything else, he can hear her love for him. Confirmation of something he’s hoped for and wanted for so long has finally arrived: the truth, here in her very thoughts.

He feels as if he’s been given the world and denied it all at once.

 

***

 

_He is standing at the edge of his driveway, surveying the neighborhood. It’s tranquil here, pleasant. There’s something about it he likes._

_He sips his coffee and waits. He’s not sure for what, but he knows something is coming, something important._

_As if on cue, two figures approach on the opposite side of the street, walking along the sidewalk. It’s two women and one of them is walking a dog._

_As they get closer, he sees it’s Scully and her sister, Melissa. The dog is little Queequeg. They are laughing and talking together. As they get even closer, he notices Scully is pregnant, and her hand goes protectively to her belly. He smiles and is about to wave, when he realizes something disturbing._

_She doesn’t know who he is._

_She looks at him and gives a polite nod, then continues walking along, away from him. No recognition whatsoever. It is as if they are two strangers passing on the street._

_This is what his life would be had they never met. This is what her life would be._

_He feels an ache in his heart that he cannot deny. Seeing Scully existing without him feels unnatural, wrong._

_But she looks so… happy. She is safe, and content, and free._

 

_***_

 

The days pass slowly, in a haze of semi-consciousness. His mind slips in and out of darkness as it heals. He’s lost his ability to read minds, and he’s glad to be rid of it. He doesn’t envy Gibson Praise, wherever the poor kid may be.

He is, however, very aware of Scully, always with him, always near. Although the hospital has released him, his doctors have suggested he not remain alone. Scully takes him home and stays with him without asking, without being asked. It is merely understood.

He hasn’t dreamed since his ordeal but he is afraid he might. He’s relieved she is here so he can be near her while he sleeps. She lays next to him in his bed, again without asking, without being asked. He anticipates waking up in a panic and sensing her calming presence at his side. He’s grateful she is here, in whatever capacity she deems appropriate.

She kisses his forehead when she leaves for work every morning without him, and makes him dinner at night while reading over new case files. It’s such an odd feeling and even odder that he actually enjoys it. After all his visions associating domesticity with doom, he’s been left even more confused about his feelings on the matter.

Those visions were all wrong. He’d completely abandoned his true mission and for the first time he saw what his life would have become had he chosen a life without Scully by his side. Had Diana never left, her powerful hold on him would have ultimately spelled disaster; for his quest, and for the world. Maybe only metaphorically, but it was certainly the end of his world.

And then there is the boy. The young boy he’d seen means something. Was it himself as a young boy, full of dreams and promise? Or is it a boy from his future? These thoughts slip in and out of his mind, and his heart, thoughts of what it would be like to be a father. He’s still not sure what he wants, but he’ll remember the boy for a long time. He was one of the only hopeful things he will hold onto from his dream.

Scully had been the only one to understand, and she was the only one who helped make him understand. She was the one who would join him by his side to help complete his mission, not divide him from it. He knows for certain she would never betray him, would never leave his side, and will always be his forever partner.

A week into his convalescence, Scully stands in his doorway and delivers the news of Diana’s death, as well as the information that she’d actually helped save his life in the end.

He’d written Diana almost completely off that night she brought him home, after he’d passed out in the stairwell. She hadn’t exactly been subtle when she’d removed her shirt and attempted to climb into bed with him, but he was no longer interested in anything she had to offer. And that was when he heard her thoughts for the first time. As clear as a bell, he heard her speaking even though her mouth was closed.

She knew about the spacecraft, the rubbings, what caused his illness, all of it. She’d known all along and let it happen. And worse, she was working with the cancer man after all.

He knew then for sure she was lost to him. And when she realized that he knew what she knew, everything went black. The last thing he remembered was calling out Scully’s name. When he awoke in the hospital his brain was on fire.

Diana had chosen the quest, the work, over him. She truly believed that her cause had been just. She thought she was doing what was best for mankind, but was having to do it at Mulder’s expense. She truly believed he, of all people, would understand.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not from her. Even as she stood over his bedside and declared her love for him, he could not return it. He believes she did love him, right up until the end. But not enough. That was the biggest difference between the two of them: he would never have betrayed her, not for anything.

It would have ended badly for him if she hadn’t given Scully the means to save him. But Diana hadn’t come for him herself. She knew it wasn’t her place anymore. She knew he’d heard her thoughts, and it was over for them, no matter what she wished might happen.

She may never have known his heart already belonged to Scully, but he suspects she might have.

Ever since he’s been home he cannot stop thinking about the vision of Scully walking down the street. It fills his mind with doubt. Seeing how happy she was having never known him, having never been sucked into his vortex, having never lost all the things she was doomed to lose by choosing a life by his side has shaken him.

He feels responsible for all of it. He made his choice, and Scully made hers too, but he fears the consequences of those choices will haunt them both forever. The guilt he feels for everything that’s happened to her has been eating away at him, and now that he knows she’s in love with him the guilt is even worse.

He’s been afraid for years that she doesn’t love him the way he loves her. Now he is afraid because she does.

Being with her would make him happy. But could being with him make her happy, after everything she’s been through because of him? Would she still choose him, love him, in spite of everything? He doesn’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve any of this. Believing that, knowing that, and also wanting to be with her more than anything in the world is tearing him apart.

As they stand in his doorway, he gazes into her eyes; the eyes of the only person he should have placed his unwavering trust in, all along. The only person who will ever understand him for who he is. His one true love, regardless of all his fears and doubts on the matter.

“You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart you were my constant, my touchstone.”

She smiles, tears in her eyes. “And you are mine.”

He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know she means it.

Curiously, the inner conflict he feels seems to dissipate when she’s standing in front of him, looking into his eyes. It seems to fall away, and the only thing remaining is the two of them.  _Maybe this is what being in love is,_ he wonders. Maybe he’s never really felt it before. When he looks at her, and she looks back at him, his resolve strengthens. He endeavors to deserve her because she is everything he needs.

She holds his face in her hands and briefly grazes her thumbs along his lips. He can see the longing in her eyes that he can now properly identify and appreciate.

She loves him. He is loved.

He thinks of the boy on the beach, and how right now, he is exactly where he is meant to be. He smiles contentedly, because regardless of their romantic status, or lack thereof, they are together. They belong to each other. He is satisfied.

As she heads back down the hallway, he watches her go. He makes a promise to himself that before the year is out, he will start showing her he loves her too. He will do whatever he can to make her believe he deserves her.

 

 

_***_

 

New Years Eve.

He has only ten seconds to make a decision or he will have broken another promise to himself.

_Do it, do it._

He turns to look at her. He wonders if she’s really as engrossed in Dick Clark as she appears to be, or if she’s feigning interest to avoid his gaze, but he decides it doesn’t matter. He’s going to do it. He can’t wait another second to know what it feels like to kiss her.

He leans closer and as if she senses what’s happening, she turns and closes her eyes, letting him in for the first time ever.

He closes his eyes as their lips meet and time seems to slow down.  

The kiss is sweet, a bit cautious, and decidedly romantic. It may not appear earth shattering, but it feels so completely huge. He’s made a move, and she’s allowed it. It’s _something_ , something new and different and hopeful.

As he pulls away he opens his eyes to search her face. Hers are still closed and he takes this as a good sign, a sign he may have even pulled away too soon. When she opens them she is smiling.

She cocks her head a bit, as if to say, _well, well, well. Look what we did._

He smiles at her and shrugs. “The world didn’t end.”

“No, it didn’t,” she agrees.

And it truly didn’t. In fact, the world feels new.

 

**SCULLY**

**(En Ami)**

 

She hates that she lied to him. Absolutely hates it. The thought of any kind of wedge between them is abhorrent to her. He seems to know she had very little choice, but he is hurt, betrayed. And she understands.

“He could have done something to you, Scully. He could have killed you!”

The car ride home from the fake offices of C.G.B. Spender has been an uncomfortable one. She appreciates Mulder’s protectiveness to a point, but his belief he’d been so close to losing her has ratcheted up to anger. She rarely sees him this angry, especially with her.

Even though she believes everything she did was the right course of action, now is not the time to be defensive. Now is the time to let him be angry, to ask for forgiveness.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Did you even think about how I might have felt? When I learned you were alone with him?”

“Of course I did.”

She stares at her hands in her lap. She wants to look him right in the eye and tell him she knew what she was doing, and he doesn’t need to protect her. But she doesn’t. He needs to feel this way right now, and she wants to give him what he needs the only way she knows how.

“I wish you’d realize I didn’t have much of a choice, Mulder. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what was going on but the whole thing was on his terms. I figured we’d sit down, have a conversation like this, and you’d understand.”

“Well, I don’t. I don’t understand how you could go off with him and not tell me about it. Especially after... Diana.”

She can tell he didn’t really want to say it. She feels bile rising in the back of her throat. Even from the goddamn grave, this woman will not leave them alone. She bites her tongue to keep from saying something she’ll regret.

“This is not even close to the same situation. I am not, and never have been, like her.”

Mulder stares at her, hard. “You’re right. You aren’t. I never said you were.”

He looks back at the road and grips the steering wheel. She doesn’t like the direction this conversation is going so she changes tack.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Mulder. Never. You have to know that by now.”

He doesn’t say anything. She can see his jaw moving in frustration as he grinds his teeth. She knows he’s mad but she can’t help but find it thoroughly hot.

“I would hope that after all we’ve been through, you could trust me in this type of situation. As your partner. That you’d do the same, and know I would trust you, if you were in my position.”

“Never. I’d never trust him.”

“But you have,” she responds quietly. She regrets the words even as they leave her mouth, but she’s said them now.

He pulls the car over to the side of the road, puts it in park, and shuts off the ignition. He turns to her. “What are you talking about?”

“You did. You trusted him enough to want to go to that Air Force base. You were headed there with _her._ You would have been killed, burned up with the rest of them. There would have been nothing I could have done about it if you hadn’t changed your mind.”

Mulder is stunned. But she’s right, and she knows he knows it. He doesn’t know what to say. The air in the car is still, and tense.

His face looks conflicted. “Everything he said to me made sense. It was the truth. About what happened to my sister, about the deal that was struck, all of it had to be true.”

“How is that any different than how I reacted? You trusted him. You believed him. Something in what he said made you believe him.”

“It’s not the same, Scully. You should have told me about this.”

“How is it not the same?”

“Scully-”

“Why are you allowed to act alone, but I’m not? Why, Mulder?”

“Because-“ he stops himself.

“What? Because why?”

“I don’t know!” He explodes. “It’s just… it’s just different.”

“Because I’m a woman? Is that what you were going to say?”

He shakes his head. She can’t tell if he’s lying. She hates when that happens.

“I’m so mad at you right now.” It’s all he can muster. She is unimpressed.

“Really? Great. I’m getting a little pissed off at you, myself,” she retorts. Nothing like a little misogynistic bullshit to further ruin an already horrible evening.

He grips the steering wheel with his fingers again, staring straight ahead. She laughs to herself and shakes her head, this situation such a metaphor for their own relationship. Stuck in this car together, facing the right direction but never getting anywhere. As always.

“It’s not because you’re a woman.” He’s still looking straight ahead. “I can’t tell you what it is. I don’t know how.”

“Well, by all means, please try, Mulder.”

He turns to look at her. There’s a fire in his eyes she hasn’t seen before. It’s anger, but maybe also something else.

Without any warning, he throws his body over the console and his mouth is on hers, moving insistently, fiercely. She wants him so badly that her hands go instantly to the back of his neck, pulling him in even harder. Her mouth opens for him for the first time and he does not hesitate. His tongue is aggressive and crushes her own. She feels the kiss throughout her entire body.

His hand moves with intent underneath her shirt and she can’t help her body from responding but just as quickly as this happened, she decides she doesn’t like what’s happening.

_No, this is wrong, all wrong._

“Mulder.” She tries to say his name while his mouth is devouring hers, but either he isn’t hearing her or he’s choosing to ignore her.

She places both hands on his chest and pushes him off her, hard. “Mulder, stop!”

He pulls back, stunned. Her lipstick is smeared across his mouth and she tries not to like it. The last thing she wants is to stop but the only thing she can think of right now is that this is definitely not the way this should begin. He’s angry and confused, just as much as she is. There’s only so much self control they can exercise anymore. Something like this was bound to happen, she just wishes it were under different circumstances.

“Please, not like this. You’re upset.”

She worries they’ve fucked everything up irrevocably and she wants to make light of this as quickly as possible but her eyes are welling up. She doesn’t want him to see her cry so she turns away from him to look out the window.

“I… I’m sorry, Scully.” She can’t see his face but she knows him well enough to know he means it.

“Just take me home, okay?”

She hears the car turn back on and they start to move. They drive in silence for awhile.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly. She still can’t bring herself to look at him. She’s not mad at him, there was nothing he did that she didn’t welcome in the moment. She’s embarrassed, and angry at the both of them for continuing to fuck this up over and over again.

“It’s fine, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”  _Like we always do,_ she thinks miserably.

Without any more conversation they arrive at her apartment. She’s so confused and upset and she wants him so badly she has to get out. She doesn’t want to leave things like this but she wants nothing more than to get out of this car as fast as possible. She goes to open the door and feels his hand grab her wrist gently.

“Scully.”

She turns to face him, eyes red. She hates that he’s seeing her like this. “It’s fine, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He looks at her intently, his eyes are so sad. He looks completely miserable. “That wasn’t me. I… don’t know what that was. I hope you can forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, okay?” She’s trying to sound kind but firm. She wants to stop talking about this. “I’ll see you later.”

The car door slams behind her and she heads up the steps and into her building, not looking back.

She has never wished more for a reset button in her life. They’d been making such progress lately, she thought some way, somehow soon things were going to finally change. Now she worries it will never happen, not after this.

Did she make a mistake? Should she have just let it happen? Should she have just let him fuck her right there in the car out of anger? Why couldn’t it have happened a different way? What the hell is wrong with them?

_Loneliness is a choice._

The words she heard herself say to Philip Padgett last year in a moment of vulnerability come back now to haunt her. She’d told him she wasn’t lonely but it was a lie. She’s chosen loneliness over and over again, all her life. And Mulder is choosing it too.

Why do they keep making that choice?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati" is written by David Duchovny & Chris Carter.  
> Dialogue from "Millennium" is written by Frank Spotnitz & Vince Gilligan.


	7. COLLISION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She’s been making the wrong choice for years. Now the only thing she wants to do is make the right one and she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She is done waiting and wondering. So she goes to his bedroom in the middle of the night like a moth to a seven-year-long burning flame."

**COLLISION**

**(all things)**

 

**SCULLY**

 

Their worlds are colliding. Her world, his world.

There’s no other way she can describe it. The force of gravity pulling them both down to earth. Two meteors crashing into each other. Magnetic poles fusing together.

She doesn’t remember exactly how it started. She only remembers waking up alone on his couch, his fish tank bathing the living room in a pale green light, the ugly blanket from his couch around her, smelling like Mulder. She loves that ugly blanket.

_What if there was only one choice, and all the other ones were wrong?_

She’s been making the wrong choice for years. Now the only thing she wants to do is make the right one and she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She is done waiting and wondering. So she goes to his bedroom in the middle of the night like a moth to a seven-year-long burning flame.

There is no more hesitation. She runs to him and it begins.

They are sitting on his bed together, a frenzy of tangled limbs. Their clothes come off fast enough to make her head spin. All she can sense is him, his heat, his mass, his every atom.

A flurry of thoughts invade her mind, first _oh my god I can’t believe this is finally happening._

Then _this is a mistake, we shouldn’t be doing this._

Then _stop._

_Stop._

But she doesn’t want to stop, she knows she’s not going to stop. She banishes these thoughts because even though her mind is screaming at her to stop she knows her heart will not listen.

She’s made her decision.

Physically, this is what she wants, she knows this is what both of them need. But emotionally, she worries what it might mean. What if this really is a mistake? What if they can’t be like themselves after this, can’t go back to being _them_?

Tears prick her eyes and she admonishes herself. It’s exhausting, hiding your feelings from the one person you want to tell the most. Fantasies of this very moment have permeated her thoughts for years, and every day that passed without it happening made that exhaustion exponentially worse.

And what about him? What is he thinking? What is he feeling?

_God, he feels amazing. This is amazing._

He feels exactly like she always imagined he would. Her fingers trail along his arms, his back, his shoulder blades, all the places she’s never been allowed to touch this way. Her mind tries to focus as stray thoughts from over the years fill her head: his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of an autopsy bay. His steely hazel eyes locked onto hers for just a few moments too long. The heat of their mouths just inches apart as he pulls her forehead to his but never crosses that line.

All those times she wanted him to.

_Sometimes nothing happens for a reason._

Well, that line has certainly been crossed now. She rationalizes that it’s pointless to stop even if she were capable of doing so. There is no going back now. None of this is rational anyway; all her rational thoughts have left the building. His building. His bed. His body. His hands. His mouth.

Him, him, him.

 _Finally_.

It’s dark, but the moonlight is bright, almost otherworldly. She should feel self-conscious about her body but she doesn’t; they’ve seen each other naked on multiple occasions over the years. Never in this context, admittedly, but she can’t bring herself to care. There simply isn’t enough bandwidth in her brain right now to go there.

He’s kissing her deeply, hungrily, all over, like he’s discovering her. She lets him. He’s nothing if not single-minded when it comes to his passion. As frustrating as it can be in moments when they don’t see eye to eye, she admires that about him.

She loves that about him.

“Is this okay?” He is the first one to speak. It’s an odd thing to say, considering she's the one who started everything. He must notice the tears in her eyes. Maybe he’s thinking about what happened in the car. She worries he’s misinterpreting.

“No. I mean… yes, it’s fine,” she smiles. “It’s better than fine. Just ignore me.”

He smiles and pulls her in again. His hands sink into her hair, his fingers entangle and disappear.

He tells her he’s ignored her for too long, he won’t make that mistake again. Something like that. Her head is swimming and she doesn’t hear exactly what he’s saying. She’s never felt so wonderful in her entire life, she knows that much. The actual fulfillment of the one thing she’s wanted more than anything else is overloading every single one of her senses. Her stomach contracts until it almost hurts.

The rain is pounding on his bedroom window, the trees whipping against the glass. She’s lost all sense of time but she knows what she wants. The familiar ache she feels is telling her this preliminary dance can’t go on much longer. Part of her wants to make this go on forever but it’s been years since she’s been with anyone and she’s more than ready for him. 

He’s kissing her everywhere, slowly, taking his time. She still can’t believe this is happening and wants to live in this moment, letting him worship her body like this. Rarely are they on the same page, however, and tonight will be no exception. She needs him right now.

She pushes him back against the wall and her hand moves down in expectation, grasping him firmly. Hard evidence, her favorite kind, she jokes to herself. She suspects Mulder would appreciate a dumb science joke but she tucks that one away for later. Now really isn’t the time.

“Wait.” He pulls away, holding her face.

She looks into his eyes and sees exactly what she’s been hoping for so long to see: desire for her, maybe even love? He’s looking at her with wonder, like he just saw his first UFO. But then:

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

 _Fuck._ _What is he doing?_

Maybe he’s considered this so many times and stopped himself so many times because he knows it’s probably not a good idea. Does he really want to stop? Does she?

 _No._ There really is no turning back this time. She’s made her choice. Whatever he believes, she wants to believe everything will be okay, no matter what, because it’s _them._

They can take on the world.

“I’m sure.” She says it clearly, assuredly. “Are you?”

Possible consequences are not driving her at the moment. He is like air, like water. Her need is primal and urgent. God, she hopes he’s sure.

He nods and smiles. _That_ smile. The one she’s tried to ignore all this time. The one that stirs up these feelings she’s pushed away year after year until she finally realized that smile was all she ever wanted to see.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life, Scully.”

“That’s certainly saying something, for you,” she says, smiling, as she climbs onto his lap.

It’s the first time they’ve made contact in this way and their eyes lock. The significance of the moment isn’t lost on her, but all she can think of is how he can’t get inside her fast enough. She berates herself for feeling so powerless to these urges, because the Scully he knows doesn’t behave like this. That Scully isn’t impulsive, especially with Mulder. It’s how she’s kept her hands off him all these years.

As she looks into his eyes, though, she realizes she’s actually very much in control. She’s more in control than she’s ever been. For the first time with him, she’s going after what she wants. This Scully, the one holding onto him now, is real, and she wants him to know her so badly.

This is what she wants, he is who she wants. He is all she’s wanted ever since she walked into his basement office all those years ago. Her life started at twenty-eight and she hasn’t realized it until now.

Suddenly they are one, and she closes her eyes, marveling at its exquisiteness. It has never felt this way for her before. The symbiotic dance that has gone on for so long between his beautiful mind and hers has finally manifest in their bodies and it’s every bit as divine as she imagined it.

She remembers what he said to her years ago in his hallway: _You made me a whole person._ She never knew until this moment she had not been whole without him.

The rain continues to pummel the glass. Her hands are in his hair, his hands are everywhere. They find a rhythm and time and space don’t exist anymore; only they do.

She holds his face and studies it: his perfect bottom lip that she can’t help but stare at whenever he’s rattling off a theory he’s excited about. The stubble on his face he’d neglected to shave for some reason that probably had something to do with her absence. And his eyes, the same eyes that have looked directly into her soul for years, now looking more closely into her own than ever before. The only reality she can perceive right now is him, wrapped around her like he belongs there.

She doesn’t want it to end but eventually, it does for them both, at the same time. _That never happens,_ she marvels. She can’t believe how perfect everything is.

Her eyes close and she pulls his mouth to hers again, drinking him in. Her lips dance around his face, tasting the sweat dripping down his forehead, the sweat she helped put there. His body starts to relax as she kisses his face. His eyelids close and he looks completely spent.

“ _ScullyScullyScullyScully_ ….” he whispers into her ear. It’s the best thing she’s ever heard him say. And he’s said a lot.

She’s holding him tightly, their bodies still joined upright. Her chin is resting on his shoulder, her knees locked around his hips. She studies the texture of the wall behind him and decides extracting herself from his arms is something she wants to put off as long as possible. Mostly because this feels like heaven, but also because then she will have to face him and think of something to say.

She doesn’t know what to say.

She wants to tell him the truth, she wants to say the words, but she can’t. She’s terrified. Just because he’s said yes to sex doesn’t mean he loves her the same way she loves him.

What if she says it and he can’t say it back? It would ruin everything that hasn’t already been ruined.

She can’t help but hope they’ll ruin it again. And again.

 _It’s too soon to say it_ , she tells herself. _Seven years and it’s too soon. How fucking stupid is that?_

She thinks of the millions of people who say it all the time without meaning it, and here she is, meaning it and not saying it. She prays to whatever God is listening that he says something first.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs into her ear, in that tired voice he uses when they’re discussing a case and they’re on round four of one of their bantering sessions. “You have no idea, Scully… no idea how much I’ve thought about this, how much I’ve wanted this.”

She thinks she probably has some idea. She says nothing, but clings to him even tighter and kisses his temple. He’s breathing quietly into her ear as he holds her, and she is more happy and content than she’s ever been. She’s never been this close to him before and she wants to savor it before the moment is over and they have to try to go back to doing whatever it was they did before this.

The rain has begun to slow down, as if the storm itself was waiting for them, only for the two of them, to swell and subside as they did. As if the world had been holding its breath. They embrace each other quietly for what feels like an eternity, their breath slowing, their hearts pounding, the rain outside. Finally, reluctantly, she unravels her body from his and slides off the bed.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom, I’ll be right back.” She hears him flop back down onto the bed.

She closes the bathroom door behind her and looks into the mirror. She likes what she sees. The tableau of Mulder’s bathroom mirror framing her wild hair, her puffy lips, face red from the scruff on his chin, that just-fucked look in her eyes.

 _This feels good, this feels right._ She smiles at her reflection.

She turns on the sink and splashes water on her face, tries to turn off the faucet but a stubborn drip protests.

After a couple minutes, she emerges into the soft moonlight of his bedroom. He’s already asleep, of course. The jet lag from his flight from England that afternoon combined with their activities would be plenty to send him off to dreamland.

She considers climbing into bed with him, holding him all night until their breathing falls into sync like everything else, and staying there with him until morning. But she doesn’t. She can think of a million reasons to go and only one reason to stay. And that one reason is something she’s not ready to tell him.

She decides to leave that for another night. Because as awkward as this all may be, deep down she knows there has to be another night.

She softly pads around his bedroom, collecting her clothes. Her skirt is on the floor near his head, and as she crouches down to get it she watches him sleep for a moment. She presses her thumb to her own lips, then his, and says what she’s not ready to say, quietly. He won’t hear her, but she tells him anyway, because it’s the only thing left to do to make everything truly perfect.

She returns to the bathroom and gets dressed, the sink still dripping, unfinished business. Like they will have tomorrow.

After exiting the bathroom she notices the wind has picked up again. She tries not to read too much into it. She pauses at the foot of the bed to grab her jacket and looks at his naked sleeping form, half obscured by sheets. A tiny, triumphant smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

 

He’s talking too much, as usual, the droning sound of his voice starting to bore even himself. So he stops and lets his gaze rest on her face, asleep on the couch next to him.

With one finger he gently tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.  She’s so heartbreakingly beautiful. Once again, the bad thoughts he’s been fighting against rise up inside him.

_You don’t deserve her._

_You’ll never be good enough for her._

_Oh, and you’ve completely fucked up her life, by the way._

He doesn’t want to think these things but he can’t help it. He’s a fucking disaster and he loves her so much it hurts.

He briefly considers waking her up so she can go home, but he wants her here, as near to him as possible. So he tucks a blanket around her shoulders and after one more lingering gaze, reluctantly leaves her side to go to bed.

He’s tired, anyway. A whirlwind trip to England to investigate crop circles that all ended up coming to nothing. And he and Scully had a stupid argument before he left, not to mention that whole awful thing that happened in the car the other night. It was a shitty weekend.

At least she’s here now, and everything seems to be okay. They’ll move on like always, in the numbing embrace of the status quo, because as usual, he’s too chicken shit to do anything about it.

He brushes his teeth, takes off his pants and gets into bed. He’s tired but his mind won’t rest. How can it while she’s here in his apartment, so close, right now?

He’s lying there, his mind racing. He should wake her and offer her the bed. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. Fuck it, maybe he should just scoop her up and bring her into the bed with him. Be romantic, do something unexpected.

 _Ugh, no._ She’d probably slap him or leave or something. It just isn’t him, it’ll never work.

As he mulls his options over, she appears in the doorway. At first he thinks he’s dreaming, that he’s willed her into existence, some gorgeous fiery haired tulpa. A corporeal being turned physical by sheer imagination.

“Mulder.”

Her voice is husky, unfamiliar. He’s never heard her say his name this way, and he’s thrilled to add it to his list. He’s amazed that one word uttered by her has already stirred something deep in his groin.

He props himself up on his elbows and blinks.

“Scully?”

Before he can even comprehend what’s going on she’s across the room and in his space, kissing him wildly, her hands in his hair. He kisses her back.

And just like that, they’ve changed. They’ve become something else.

Of all the times he pictured this happening, and there were many times, he was always the one to make the first move. He’d thought about it in their office. He’d thought about it in the field. He’d thought about it at home, at times when he felt so lonely he could hardly stand her absence even though they’d already spent twelve hours together that day. Some nights he’d call her up for no reason at all, just to hear her voice. Other nights he’d turn to the stash of adult videos he’d tried and failed to keep a secret from her.

Hell, he’d actually tried to make a move, on more than one occasion. All of them failures.

It feels pathetic how long he’s been unable to act on his feelings in this way and now, here she is, finally doing it for him. Like she does everything for him, always.

What she’s doing now isn’t like his lame attempt on New Year’s Eve. This isn’t some arbitrary excuse to press her lips against his. This is the exact opposite of chicken shit. She’s so much braver than him and he is in awe.

He knows he doesn’t deserve her but he feels so goddamn lucky that for now, just for now, he tries to forget that.

He’s sitting up now and they are pulling, tearing each other’s clothes off. Everything falls to the floor until they’ve eliminated all the barriers that have ever been between them.

 _This is it,_ he thinks. _This is really finally happening._

Just then he sees tears in her eyes. Is she crying? He asks if this is okay. After what happened in the car the other night he would never want to make her feel that way again. She says it is okay, and he believes her. He will always believe her.

He starts talking into her neck but then shuts up. They talk too much. All he wants to do is kiss her, a thousand kisses he should have given her so many times before: dozens of stakeouts where they were so close together he found it impossible not to wonder what it would be like. That night he took her hand and they danced together at a concert. The time their hands entwined around a bat as they hit baseballs in the cool night air, his arms wrapped around her. When he told her she was his constant, his touchstone, and he knew, _he knew_ that time if he’d gone for it she would have probably gone there with him. But still, he hadn’t.

That goddamn fucking bee in the hallway that interrupted them, just outside of his apartment, mere yards from where they are now, gasping for breath and tracing every inch of each other with their fingertips.

He can hardly believe it but now her hands are moving downward, and suddenly his rational brain snaps to attention. This is headed exactly where _he_ wants it to go, but...

_What if she regrets this?_

_What if it affects our partnership?_

_What if what if what if?_

He looks into her eyes, knows he has to ask if she’s sure.

She pauses for a moment and he’s having trouble reading her face. He’s so sure about this he now wishes he hadn’t said anything at all and he’s painfully aware he’s given her an out.

_Please don’t take it._ _Please stay with me, Scully._

She takes his face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. It nearly takes his breath away.

“I’m sure,” she says, with the same certainty she reserves for the scientific facts she recites for him daily, and his heart almost bursts with relief. She crawls into his lap and his world spins off its axis.

Before it’s over, he adds three new “Mulders” to his list. The very last one she screamed out is his new all-time favorite.

Afterwards, she clings to him tightly, both of them breathing heavily. He wants her to know he loves her, that she means more to him than anything in the world. But he doesn’t tell her, not right now. His brain hasn’t caught up to his body and he can barely process how incredible this all is. How incredible she is, how much he’s wanted this for so long.

He _can_ tell her that much, so he does, softly, into her ear.

Suddenly he’s completely exhausted. He knows they’re going to have to figure this all out but he can’t think about that right now. All he can think about is how amazing her body feels next to his, just the way he’s always imagined it. Better, actually.

For the moment, he is utterly content. He would be perfectly happy just holding her like this forever.

After a while she releases him to head to the bathroom and he feels a pang of sadness to let her go. He flops back onto the bed, the sheets still tangled from his attempt at sleep before she pounced on him.

He shifts over to one side of his bed to make room for her. He’s not used to having to do that, his long limbs usually stretched out across the entire bed. His couch has been the only place he’s slept for so many years; sleeping in an actual bed has been relatively new for him.

He could get used to having her in it, he thinks, and he’s picturing such a scenario when he drifts off to sleep, the wind beginning to whip the leaves against the windows once again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "all things" written by Gillian Anderson.


	8. NAVIGATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They unabashedly gaze at one another for a few moments. It’s possibly even better than sex, at least right now, to finally be able to just look at him and not have to quickly avert her eyes to study the wall or a plant or an X File. They understand one another in a new way, maybe not completely, but last night they both admitted a singular truth to each other that neither could deny for much longer, and that alone is so freeing."

**NAVIGATION**

 

**SCULLY**

**(post all things)**

 

Monday morning.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God._

She smoothes out her skirt and adjusts her hair as she stands outside the basement office door. This is, without a doubt, going to be the single most awkward day of her life. Even if everything goes fine, the huge change in their dynamic is going to be ever present.

A vivid flashback of the night before enters her mind and she tries to push it away. How is she going to work with him with that on her mind? When he is in her immediate space every minute?

She really hasn’t thought this through properly.

What if he’s upset with her for leaving in the middle of the night? What if he regrets it all and tells her it can never happen again?

Or worse, _worse_ , what if he simply carries on like nothing ever happened? That's been their modus operandi for longer than she cares to remember. She hopes at least that much has changed. She prays that much has changed.

There’s really only one way to find out. She takes a deep breath and opens the door.

He’s there, feet up on the desk, reading a case file.

_Jesus, he’s gorgeous._

He notices her enter and puts the file down, starting to get up. He grins, a playful glint in his eyes as if he has something up his sleeve. She gives him a small, inquisitive smile.

He faces her, the desk between them. Slowly, he moves his arms to one side, and with a sweeping _whoosh_ he pushes every single item from the desk to the floor. As she looks on in mock horror, he pats the desk and waggles his eyebrows deliciously, with a smile that could melt Antarctica.

She bursts out laughing, wholesome bubbling laughter she rarely lets anyone see. Leave it to Mulder to figure out how to so perfectly break the tension.

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe you just did that.”

“I’ve been planning that all morning,” he replies proudly. Standing with his hands on his hips, he surveys the damage. “I thought maybe it would be worth all the cleanup.”

She laughs again, so relieved. _Oh, it was._

Suddenly he’s come around the desk, crossed the carpet and is standing right in front of her, searching her face. Whatever permission he’s looking for in her expression he must find because now he’s kissing her, right there in the office.

She’s so relieved and happy he’s not upset or distant that she lets him kiss her, kisses him back, even seriously considers throwing him down on the desk right then and there and fulfilling another one of her well-worn fantasies, but something about being at work puts her in her right mind and after a moment she gently puts her hand on his chest and stops the kiss.

As he pulls away he looks confused. She can tell he’s wondering if he misinterpreted everything, and that’s the last thing she wants him to think. They’ve come too far to take a step backward now.

Her eyes meet his, sharing an unspoken truth, and she can see him relax. They’ve always been good at communicating with just their eyes, when they’re both willing to see.

She takes his tie in her hand and tugs at it a bit, the cool silk suddenly feeling like one of her own possessions. “Not at work, Mulder.”

He puts both hands up in resignation and grins at her. “Yep, sorry. You’re right.”

He backs up and leans against the desk. God, he looks so good in his suit. It’s the gray one with that cornflower blue shirt she loves. She revels in a simple freedom she can now enjoy without all the awkwardness: just the sight of him.

He continues. “I couldn’t help myself. To be able to do that, it’s… it’s new. I like it.”

“I like it too.”

They unabashedly gaze at one another for a few moments. It’s possibly even better than sex, at least right now, to finally be able to just look at him and not have to quickly avert her eyes to study the wall or a plant or an X File.

They understand one another in a new way, maybe not completely, but last night they both admitted a singular truth to each other that neither could deny for much longer, and that alone is so freeing.

“Why didn’t you stay?” He sounds a bit nervous. She tries to give him a reason not to be.

“I don’t know. You fell asleep, and I just… it sounds silly, I know, but it’s your space.” He looks a bit hurt. “I had to go home to get ready for work.” He doesn’t seem to be buying any one of these excuses. “I don’t know. At the time it felt like the right thing to do. I’m sorry. I’ll stay over next time, if you want me to." Her eyes widen as she catches herself. “You know, I mean, if... there’s a next time.”

His body loses its tension as he smiles, seemingly accepting her mea culpa. “I certainly hope there will be.”

She relaxes a bit and smiles. “Well.”

She knows they are supposed to talk about what happened but she doesn’t want to here, not now. And if she’s being perfectly honest with herself, maybe not ever. They’ve never been great with conversations that have to do with personal stuff and she’s not surprised it’s no different now.

She wonders how long they’ll be able to keep this up without having to talk about it. Maybe fucking and not talking about it is all this will end up being. She inwardly curses their inability to behave like grownups.

They are interrupted anyway by AD Skinner. Mulder’s eyes dart to the doorway as Scully hears footsteps and she whips around, the imposing figure of their boss standing there, taking in his surroundings.

For the first time ever, she feels self-conscious around him, as if he’s judging her. It’s hard to tell if he suspects anything, but it’s hard to tell with Skinner about most things. One thing is for sure: she doesn’t want him to know what’s going on between her and Mulder.

“Good morning, sir.”

She thinks she sounds normal, but who knows? Mulder shifts to standing from his leaning position on the desk and his hands go to his tie, straightening it. He nods at their boss and smiles. He never smiles at Skinner before nine in the morning and between the smile and the scattered mess across the floor by the desk she worries the jig may be up.

“Uh..” Skinner surveys the floor, confusion knitting his brow. “Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, we’re... redecorating,” Mulder offers lamely.

_Oh, my God._ If she could, she would sink into the floor. And they’re already standing in the basement.

“Do you need something, sir?” Scully tries to move this along.

She suspects Skinner knows what’s going on as well as everyone else in the FBI they’ve ever crossed paths with over the years. She curses the unfairness that they hadn’t started sleeping together years ago, since everybody probably thought they were anyway.

Skinner’s gruff voice is all business. “I’m headed to Winston-Salem for a security detail, some high-up whistleblower at a tobacco company set to testify tomorrow morning. I wanted to check in with you two before I leave.”

“Oh. Uh… we’re fine!” she says a bit too brightly. “I think we have plenty of paperwork to keep us busy here for a couple days at least... Mulder?” She turns around almost maniacally and he’s doing everything he can not to look at her.

“Yep. We’re good. Have a nice flight, sir.”

Skinner narrows his eyes.

“Stay out of trouble, okay? It would be nice for once to not have to get a call about you two while I’m out in the field.”

Mulder crosses his arms. “We don’t have any plans for trouble, do we, Scully?”

“No, sir, trouble is not on the agenda this week.”

Skinner looks at the mess on the floor, looks at the desk, gives them one final long look, and walks out.

It isn’t until she hears the elevator doors close that Scully lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding. She tilts her head slightly to eye Mulder behind her, then spins. “This could get complicated.”

“Only if we let it, Scully,” he replies conspiratorially, as he bends down and starts picking up the mess. “Aw,” he pouts and shows her an unfortunate casualty: his alien mug, the handle broken off.

“I guess planning this all morning didn’t involve moving your favorite mug off the desk?” she teases.

“Well, I admit I did have other things on my mind.” His voice has dropped an octave. His eyes lock with hers and her stomach contracts.

“Okay, seriously Mulder, you need to cut that out, or this is going to be an extremely long day.”

He grins. “Message received.”

She crouches down to help him pick up his things. They clean up the office in a companionable silence and when they finish, they both stand and look at each other, not saying a word.

“Please tell me you do actually have something work related to talk about,” she finally says.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he exhales gratefully as he picks up his projector remote and hits the button.

 

**MULDER**

**(Je Souhaite)**

 

He doesn’t really remember ever being this happy. Maybe when he was a child, before Samantha disappeared, before the darkness started closing in on him. Snippets of memories still occasionally flash across his mind of a time when things were simple, even normal. He hasn’t known much of anything except darkness for most of his life.

But when Scully is near, he can almost see his way out. In moments when they were together before, and moments when they are together now, she is the one thing in his miserable existence that can bring him joy, can bring him hope. For the first time in his life he wonders if there could be something else ahead, something different.

The darkness is powerful, however, and it hasn’t released its grasp on him yet. He’s used to it, and while he knows it’s probably not healthy, it’s a comfort. An addiction.

Maybe now he can become addicted to her instead.

The last few weeks have been a wonderful blur. Every day a new endeavor, a new adventure, but instead of discovering new monsters and conspiracies they are discovering parts of each other they’ve been unable to before now.

They are navigating a transition from friends to something else, even though they aren’t quite sure yet what that is. They’ve gone from standing unbearably close without the ability to bridge that distance, to having trouble keeping their hands off each other.

They've also been making and breaking new rules. Such as:

_Rule #1:_ never at work. They’ve broken this rule exactly four times. He‘s not sorry.

_Rule #2:_ no telling anyone else they know. Not family, not friends, not fellow FBI agents. They don’t _say_ why, but they both know it’s because even they don’t know exactly what they are, not yet.

And _rule #3_ : never, ever discuss what any of it means or what they mean to each other. This one they hadn’t actually verbally formulated, it just seemed to be a rule neither of them would break.

It feels juvenile, not talking about exactly what their relationship is becoming. But he’ll gladly take it, because juvenile or not, it’s better than ever.

He’s always wondered how having a sexual relationship would alter the way they interacted with each other while at work, and luckily they seem to be able to slip in and out of professional mode more easily than he anticipated. But it hasn’t stopped him from constantly thinking about their last liaison and their next one. It’s been fun having some actual real sexual encounters with her to replay over and over through his mind, to replace the hundreds of fantasies he’s had to make up over the years.

He thinks of The _Lazarus Bowl_ premiere in Los Angeles, the two of them trying to get the movie’s stink off themselves in the back of a limousine, making out like a couple of teenagers headed to prom. They’d become experts at hiding their new relationship from the people they needed to, this poor limo driver a rare exception. The combination of the Bureau credit card Skinner offered them, a bit too much champagne and groping hands that couldn’t quite wait until they got back to Scully’s hotel room had added up to one of the greatest nights of his life. Technically, it hadn’t been a work trip, they agreed. Mulder’s room remained vacant that night.

He thinks of her apartment, which he really prefers, where he slept over after they’d beaten each other senseless under the influence of some troublesome doppelgängers. He loves being at her place, it feels like more of a home to him. Not only because it feels like her, but because he can’t help but associate his own place with loneliness.

And even during their case in North Carolina, before he thought he might die from exposure to the tobacco beetle larvae in his lungs. He almost has to laugh at the ridiculous situations the two of them get into while on this job. It took two weeks for him to recover and it was the longest two weeks of his life. Then when he thought the nicotine treatment might have sparked an addiction, it only took a single stern look from her to veto that idea.

Now they are on a flight to Creve Coeur, Missouri for an X File having to do with a man who inexplicably lost his entire mouth. Air travel is now a special form of torture for him, forced to be in such close proximity with her while thinking about whatever it was they’d done the night before. He’s read the case file twice and the movie is some terrible disaster with Sandra Bullock in a rehab facility.

Scully’s reading a book, but he knows she isn’t really reading because she hasn’t turned a page in ten minutes. He wonders if she’s thinking about him. He has nothing else to do, so he just watches her. It’s always been a favorite hobby of his, whether he’d admit it to himself or not. She’s pretending not to notice. After the fifth or sixth time he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, she closes the book and turns to him.

“Mulder. You have to settle down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m trying. You look so cute with your reading glasses on. You should wear those more often.”

“Staring isn’t polite.”

“It’s not staring, it’s _gazing,_ Scully _._ And it’s all I really can do in such a public area when we aren’t even supposed to be doing anything in the first place, so carry on with whatever it is you’re pretending to read.”

She puts her book in the seat pocket and raises the armrest between them. She kicks her shoes off, tucking her legs underneath her, and interlaces their fingers together as she rests her head on his shoulder.

“You need to relax, Mulder. No one is watching us.”

“Fantastic. Wanna join the mile high club, then?”

“Oh, are you a member?”

“Well, no. But I wouldn’t mind applying.”

He can hear her laughing softly and settles his head on top of hers. They fall asleep for the rest of the flight, and no one around pays them any mind.

 

***

 

There’s a huge yacht in a trailer park, Anson Stokes’ dead body is invisible, and Mulder is pretty damn sure there’s an actual _jinni_ involved. And maybe, just maybe, Scully has finally got the hard evidence she’s sought for longer than he cares to admit.

They’ve agreed not to fraternize while on the job but it’s been a long day and he just wants to be near her.

_Fuck it,_ he thinks, he’s never been one to abide by the rules. He hopes someday they’ll be able to break them all but for now he’ll settle for this one.

He knocks on her motel room door, no answer. He knows she’s in there so he uses the key she gave him to let himself in, _you know, just in case._ He’s not really worried but if he has to use it as an excuse he will.

“Scully?” he calls tentatively into the room and closes the door behind him.

Quiet for a second, but then:

“I thought we agreed no fraternizing while on assignment, Mulder.” Coming from the bathroom.

_Ooh, she’s in the bathtub._ If she was doing anything else in there she’d definitely have told him to get lost by now. He grins mischievously to himself and tiptoes over, nudging the door open a crack. He doesn’t look in yet but talks through the door.

“I have some very important casework to go over with you Scully, and it really cannot wait another minute.”

He hears her sigh, the water sloshing a bit as she moves. “Muuuuuulderrrr. I have the researchers from Harvard Medical coming in tomorrow to look at my invisible man and I’m trying not to stress out about it. Can’t you come back later?”

He decides to torment her a bit more. “I believe this is very important stuff, Scully.”

“Fine, I’ll be out in a minute.” He can tell she’s rolling her eyes. 

He enters the room to stop her, “No, no, you stay put. I’ll just go over it with you in here.”

She raises a quizzical brow but obliges. One thing he knows for sure about Scully, she would never willingly get out of the bathtub, not if she can help it.

“Mulder, what are you up to?”

“Nothing!” He overplays his affronted look.

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth but it quickly disappears and she groans. “I haven’t really been feeling very well tonight.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, my stomach feels weird. Just kind of nauseated. Maybe nerves, I suppose.”

He sits on the toilet seat and lifts her nearest foot out of the water, places it in his lap and massages it.

“That’s sexy, Scully.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

His eyes travel along the path of her body underneath the bubbles, leaving just enough to the imagination for him to handle knowing they won’t get anywhere tonight.

“Well, you’re failing miserably.”

She smiles and closes her eyes, laying her head against the back of the tub. It occurs to him she probably hasn’t heard this enough over the past seven years, certainly not from him. She’s deserved better. He makes a mental note to tell her more often.

“Anyway,” he continues, rubbing her foot. “This very important… work related... stuff.”

“Now I feel bad,” she says, eyes still closed. “You were just trying to be cute and I ruined it.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he replies. “I didn’t really plan it out much. As is evident by my lack of actual work-related stuff to talk about. Although I do think we should find that _jinni_ woman and question her in the morning.”

She opens her eyes. “You have fun with that, Mulder, I get to show a group of stuffy scientists an actual invisible man tomorrow and I’m having a really hard time thinking about anything else right now.”

Mulder sighs. “Well all right, then,” he starts to put her foot back into the water but she guides it back up into his hand.

“Almost anything else,” she grins.

 

***

 

After her crushing disappointment following the disappearance of Anson Stokes’ invisible body, Scully isn’t in the best of moods the following day. Mulder isn’t terribly surprised but gives her some space anyway. Besides, the _jinni_ has given him three wishes to make and he needs to focus. He doesn’t want to waste them.

That night, after the fiasco with the wishes is all over, he invites Scully to his apartment.

“ _Caddyshack_ , Mulder?” she snorts, noting his movie choice.

“It’s a classic American movie.”

“That’s what every guy says. It’s a guy movie.”

He grins. “You invite me to your place, and we’ll watch _Steel Magnolias._ ” He’s kidding. He knows she’d be more likely to pick _The Exorcist_.

As the movie starts up, he takes a sip of his Shiner Bock. He’d tried to make the world a better place today with his three wishes, he really had. Unfortunately he’d accidentally blown his first two wishes and then there was really only one thing left to do.

He looks at Scully, knowing she’s wondering. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I never made the world a happier place.”

“Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something,” she says, smiling up at him.

He grins. How the hell did he get so damn lucky?

“So… what was your final wish, anyway?”

He looks at her and takes a sip of his beer. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I wished her free.” He makes a finger waving gesture.

Scully’s eyebrow goes up and she breaks into a huge smile. “You _wished her free?_ You mean like in ‘Aladdin?’”

“What?”

“The Disney movie. You literally picked a Disney ending.”

“Never seen it.”

“How have you not seen it?”

“I’m more of a turd-in-the-pool kind of guy.”

She turns back to the movie and takes a swig. “Yeah. I sure know how to pick ‘em.”

He puts his arm around her and pulls her in close, kissing the top of her head.

“Give me a break, all right? It was the right thing to do.”

She shrugs. “I can think of a few things I’d have asked for.”

“Like what?”

She looks up at him. Then turns back to the TV and smiles to herself. “I’ll never tell.”

He can think of a few things himself, but in the moment he knew there was only one right answer. “Well, I’ve already got the only thing I’d have wished for,” he says.

She turns to look up into his eyes, his gaze magnetic. “You know, I never thought of you as a romantic. You really keep me guessing, Mulder.”

He sets his beer on the table, leans in and kisses her, one hand around her shoulder and the other taking her own beer out of her hand.

They don’t make it very far into the movie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Je Souhaite" written by Vince Gilligan.


	9. INDECISION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He loves her, of this he is certain. But he worries that maybe simply loving her won’t be enough. Maybe he can’t give her everything she needs. What if she throws her entire lot in with him and he fucks it all up? Or now, knowing what he knows, even dies? She’s already given up so much. The pressure to be everything to her is enormous and while it feels amazing right now, he’s not sure how long it can last."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to everyone who hates Mulder's brain disease, but it's canon. I'm going with it. Hopefully over the next couple chapters we can make sense of it.

_**INDECISION** _

**(Requiem)**

 

**MULDER**

 

 

The FBI auditor’s voice is a hollow sound in his head. Mulder has been here before, many times, defending the merit of his life’s work to someone lacking an open mind.

This time, it’s about money. The FBI wants to shut the X Files down because the Bureau can’t justify the expense. Mulder semi-seriously suggests he and Scully could start sharing motel rooms, but the auditor presses on about the continued legitimacy of his work.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s given Mulder something to think about.

The auditor is right, kind of, Mulder begrudgingly admits to himself. He _has_ discovered the truth about his sister. His singular obsession has finally been satisfied.

But this ridiculous guy doesn’t seem to realize there are infinite truths still out there, waiting to be discovered. That’s why the FBI needs an X Files unit. That’s why he’s still doing this. That’s why Scully is still doing this with him.

_Isn’t it?_

And then there’s the mysterious illness he has. Ever since the cancer man put him under the knife earlier this year, his doctors have been telling him his health has been steadily declining. Not one of them can tell him what it is, and he’s been to several. Irregular brain activity, they all say. He’s only very recently started to worry something might be terribly wrong. How can he be dying? Even though he refuses to accept it, he can’t help but feel the heavy burden of mortality weighing down on his every decision.

He hasn’t told Scully yet. She’d only worry. He’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing.

They are back in Bellefleur, Oregon, where everything began. Full circle. Déjà vu all over again.

It’s exciting being here together again now, considering how different their relationship is. He still remembers exactly how she looked that night in his motel room like it was yesterday; that wonderful night when they began to understand each other. So young, but still unmistakably Scully. And when he bared his soul to her, how somehow it felt like the right thing to do even though they’d only just met. He knew even then they had something special.

That was seven years ago. Could this work still hold the interest and excitement for her it once did? Why hasn’t he bothered asking her? Could she really just be sticking around for him? So many things they’ve lost, _she’s_ lost, all for a quest that started out as his own.

 _You were just assigned,_ he once said to her in a huff. _This work is my life._

 _And it’s become mine,_ she had responded.

She chose him time and time again, in spite of the odds stacked against them. In spite of the danger, the sacrifice, the loss. Why? Is it really as painfully obvious as he thinks it might be? That she’s doing this all for him?

He loves her, of this he is certain. But he worries that maybe simply loving her won’t be enough. Maybe he can’t give her everything she needs. What if she throws her entire lot in with him and he fucks it all up? Or now, knowing what he knows, even dies? She’s already given up so much. The pressure to be everything to her is enormous and while it feels amazing right now, he’s not sure how long it can last.

They are sitting now in Theresa Hoese’s living room. One of the many abductees they’ve encountered over the years, and somehow she’s here, living her life, just as he’d wished she and all the abductees they’ve ever met could.

Just as he’d wished Scully could.

Theresa holds her new baby, then she hands the baby over to Scully as she gets up.

Scully looks at Mulder a bit uncomfortably as Theresa leaves the room to retrieve medical records, but the motherly instinct kicks in and she bounces the infant on her knee, grabbing a Big Bird toy from the coffee table and talking to the baby quietly.

Mulder watches her and his heart breaks.

 

***

 

He’s trying to concentrate on work but his thoughts are with Scully. He has no clue exactly what kind of life she pictured having but he sure as shit knows this isn’t it. He knows as well as she does that the day she was assigned to be his partner was the day all of that changed.

There’s nothing he can do about the past. Maybe there is something he can do about her future.

She knocks on his door and he lets her in; she’s not feeling well and they both wordlessly agree to break their fraternizing rules yet again.

As he tucks her into his bed and wraps his arms around her, he knows what he needs to do.

“It’s not worth it, Scully.”

“What?”

“I want you to go home.”

She is so feverish he can feel her shaking. “Mulder, I’m gonna be fine.”

“No, no, I’ve been thinking about it. Looking at you today holding that baby. Knowing everything that’s been taken away from you, a chance for motherhood and your health… and that baby…”

He trails off for a minute, thinks he hears her sniffling.

“I think that… I don’t know, maybe they’re right.”

“Who’s right?”

“The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons… it’s the personal costs that are too high.”

He chooses his next words carefully because he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. He wants her, of course, more than anything, but not if that means holding her back. Not if it means one day breaking her heart.

“There’s so much more you need to do with your life. So much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully.”

She says nothing, but reaches for his hand and pulls it in close. They are quiet for a while, then she speaks softly, so sadly.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Mulder.”

All he can consider is what a mess they’ve gotten themselves into. How he wishes she’d left him a long time ago, before all these feelings were involved. Before her abduction and the violation of her body, leaving her sick and powerless to start a family of her own. Before her sister was murdered. Poor Queequeg, who he never really liked but the dog had made her smile and that had been everything.

“I’m responsible, Scully. I’m responsible for all of it. I can’t continue to let you put yourself at risk for me.”

She turns around on the bed to face him. “You are not responsible. Don’t put that on yourself, Mulder. I have always chosen to see this through. I want to be here.  It’s been my own choice, every time. Please stop trying to protect me.”

“I knew our work would be dangerous and I never told you,” he says. “You never knew the risks beforehand. I did. Deep Throat warned me the first time I met him. He specifically said I was putting both of us at risk. I didn’t listen, I didn’t let you decide whether to take on those risks. That is on me, Scully.”

She looks at him thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t matter. Do you really believe I’d have listened? I already thought you were crazy, Mulder.”

He laughs, squeezes her tighter. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll never know.”

She places her hand on his cheek and looks into his eyes. “I do. I know. I would have followed you anywhere.”

Closing her eyes, she nestles into him as tightly as she can. She’s still shivering a bit and he shifts to get underneath the blankets with her, pulling her close.

He wants to tell her he loves her, but something is stopping him. If he tells her, it will make this all harder than it already is. Whatever he does, however she makes him feel, he can’t shake the pervasive thought that all of this is his fault. She doesn’t want him to protect her, but he must. He will always want to protect her, no matter what. She is his entire world, even at times when his world feels like it’s about to shatter.

He wonders if he needs to let her go before things can get worse. He only wants to save her from himself.

He falls asleep with his arms around her, after he’s sure her shivering has subsided and her breathing has calmed.

That night he has a dream.

_He’s in the woods and he’s running towards something. Running, running. Finally he sees it: the spacecraft. It’s bigger than life and right there, in front of him._

_He hears a sound, a voice calling his name._

_“Mulder!”_

_At first he thinks maybe it’s Skinner calling him but... no. It’s Scully’s voice._

_"Mulder, where are you? Come back to me.”_

_He wants to go back to find her but… that craft. That craft. Nothing in him will let him stay away. He slowly approaches and sees friendly faces bathed in ethereal light, beckoning him. He sees the ship above and stares in wonder._

_“Come back to me.”_

_All the answers he’s ever wanted within his grasp. But Scully isn’t here. She’s... somewhere else._

_He knows he has a choice. It’s a choice he’s never wanted to have to make._

_And he never wants to have to make that choice._

Suddenly he wakes up, sweating. Scully is still in his arms, sleeping peacefully.

But he doesn’t feel relief, he feels loss. He tries desperately to get back to the woods but instead falls into a dreamless slumber.

 

**SCULLY**

 

 _I’m not going to risk losing you,_ he’d said.

She can’t make him stay. She knows this much. He’s too close to the truth now, and she can’t be selfish. But she won’t deny him this wish, this desire to protect her. Not this time. He will have to go back to Oregon without her.

Her partnership with Mulder has always been based on mutual respect. She wonders if any of this changed in his mind when their relationship crossed over into new territory. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself it had been a concern of hers. He’s always been protective of her, but something feels different now.

If he doesn’t want her to join him this time, what about the next time? Once she’s allowed him this indulgence, will he request it again and again until they become something completely different?

And what did he mean when he said he wanted her to do more with her life? He couldn’t have possibly meant without him, could he? She hasn’t been so confused about her own feelings for a long time, and she’s definitely not sure about his.

Everything has been too perfect for too short a time. Of course it’s been too good to be true, of course it has.

It’s close to midnight and she’s sitting on his bed, watching him pack.

“What time is your flight?”

“3:20. Arriving in Oregon around 6AM, local time.” He says it like a flight attendant, trying to lighten the mood. “Skinner is meeting me at the airport.”

For some reason everything feels odd tonight, and weighty. She has a terrible, ominous feeling.

“I feel like I’m abandoning you, even though you’re the one leaving.” She feels this way anytime he makes her stay behind. It always feels like she’s the one who’s failed him.

“I’ve got this, Scully,” he zips his carry-on bag closed and steps around the bed to her. “And don’t say that. You could never abandon me. I’m the one who always ditches you, remember?”

He crouches down so his hands are on her thighs and he’s looking up at her, smiling. She smiles and gives a tiny chuckle. “How could I forget?”

He takes her hands in his. “When I get back, we’ll figure this out. You and me, this whole thing, you know? We’ll figure everything out.”

She nods because she doesn’t know what else to do. It feels like he’s saying some kind of real goodbye, and she doesn’t know why, she can’t understand. She feels so helpless, and he’s doing that thing she hates where he goes off somewhere far away in his mind she can’t follow.

She feels like anything she says or he says is only going to make her feel worse, so she decides they don’t need to talk at all.

“Just kiss me, Mulder.”

He obliges, and they fall back onto the bed. She has an overwhelming urge to take stock of every precious moment right now, so she does. And for some reason it feels like he’s doing the same.

 

***

 

A couple hours later, Mulder’s alarm sounds. He quickly taps it and starts to get up, but she pulls him gently back down.

“Don’t get up yet,” she says, softly. “Just hold me for a few more minutes.”

He lays back down beside her. “Okay.”

She turns to face him and pulls him in close. They lay together quietly. She wishes she could make time stop for the two of them. There’s so much she wants to say, but she feels so unsure after what he’d said in Oregon.

It was almost as if he was trying to break up with her, but they haven’t discussed if they’re even a couple or not. She wants to tell him it’s what she wants but now she’s more confused than ever. He said they’d figure things out later. Would they? They haven’t so far.

She wishes she knew what to do. She’s always got an answer for everything, always some theory or hypothesis she can test and discover some truth. Not with him, though. She wishes their relationship was something she could put under a microscope.

He kisses her cheek. “I’ve got to get to the airport.” He gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. As she begins to do the same, he leans down and kisses her again.

“I’ll call a cab, you stay here and sleep.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” she offers. She can’t shake the feeling that she needs to spend every remaining second she can with him.

After she gets dressed, she idly picks some of his clothes off the floor. She finds a striped collared shirt she can’t help but remember she herself stripped off him the last time they were here. She sets the shirt down gently on his bed.

“You should really clean up in here. It’s not so impressive for the ladies.”

“I’ve already got the only one I want,” he grins, and winks at her.

At the terminal, they pull up and see Skinner waiting. Oddly, he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her dropping him off at 2:30 in the morning and even odder, for the first time she doesn’t really care.

Mulder turns to her from the passenger seat and she puts the car into park.

He just looks at her. She looks into his eyes and doesn’t say the words yet again, but leans forward because even though Skinner is right there, watching, the need to kiss him right here, right now is much stronger than her desire to keep them a secret. He doesn’t hesitate, and it’s a good kiss, a passionate one, a kiss definitely not for coworkers but one for the ages. Skinner sees just enough to turn around quickly and find his own fingernails extremely interesting.

Mulder pulls away first and looks over his shoulder. “Well, shit. This is going to be an awkward flight now.” He grins.

“Sorry, I guess it was bound to come out at some point.”

He leans in one more time for a last, quick kiss.

“Be safe, okay?” she whispers, holding his face. “Call me when you find something.”

“Okay.” He gently pulls her forehead to his and they hold each other for a moment. With one final look, he opens the car door, gets out and closes it. He waves at her through the window, joins Skinner and in a few seconds he is gone from her sight.

The call never comes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Requiem" written by Chris Carter.


	10. SEPARATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She can’t let Agent Doggett know the nature of their relationship. She can’t tell him she’s pregnant with Mulder’s baby. He can’t know any of this. The FBI could use their relationship against her, and jeopardize their search. And she cannot let that happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there, Agent Doggett!

  ** _SEPARATION_**

**(Within)**

 

**DOGGETT**

 

John Doggett isn’t sure what to make of her.

He’s heard things over the years, but mainly about the both of them. Agent Scully and Spooky Mulder. Wasting the Bureau’s time and money chasing monsters or aliens or some damn thing.

When he joined the Bureau in ‘95, he’d heard of the X Files unit. But it always seemed like a joke, some strange indulgence that made no sense. He honestly suspected nepotism of some kind, how else would such a unit be justified? Aliens? _Please._

What he’s heard about Fox Mulder he can’t consider a glowing review. Besides the fact that he believes in flying saucers, the guy has broken every rule in the book and had still, at least until recently, been allowed to not only keep his job but his unit. Someone high up had been looking out for him.

Agent Dana Scully, on the other hand, seems like a complete mystery. The two of them don’t seem to add up at all. He’s seen them together from time to time, only from afar, over the years, and he can’t help but wonder. He thinks of all the ways he’s heard his fellow agents describe her: Tough and dedicated. Ice Queen.

Mrs. Spooky.

 _That_ nickname troubles him. Was it just a jab at her fierce dedication to Agent Mulder in the face of subordination and ridicule? Or was it something more? Maybe the rumors he’s heard are true; maybe he’s more than just her partner.

That’s an added wrinkle in this case that could cause trouble.

She’s fierce, that’s for sure. He can tell already. He can’t believe such a tiny thing can hold all that energy with the weight of the world on her shoulders now, her partner missing. He knows it must be rough. Back when he was NYPD he had a partner, and he remembers what it felt like whenever his partner was in danger. Hard to imagine how she must be feeling right now.

From the few conversations he’s had with Agent Scully, he’s finding her tough to figure out. She’s a scientist, but she seems determined to convince herself otherwise. Why else would she think her partner was abducted by aliens? How else can she believe any of this crap?

He’s not accustomed to this kind of stuff. As far as he knows, this is a manhunt for a fellow FBI agent gone missing. Alien abductions be damned… he knows there are only two ways he will possibly find Agent Mulder: alive on Earth somewhere, or dead.

He sincerely hopes it’s not the latter.

Maybe the method he employs with Agent Scully is unethical. Dropping hints about other women to get a reaction out of her seemed particularly low, especially considering what she’s currently going through. He deserved that cup of water she threw in his face, he was hitting below the belt.

But he needs to do whatever he can to figure out as much as possible about this Agent Mulder, and that includes his personal liaisons. Agent Scully definitely knows more than she’s letting on, and she’s certainly not going to offer information about her personal life willingly. If using cheap tricks is going to help get him that information, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t use every last one at his disposal.

He’s only had a few conversations with her but she’s been very defensive with him. Her guard is up. He tries to give her a bit of latitude; he was a bit of an asshole to her in the bullpen, and she’s under a lot of stress at the moment for obvious reasons.

But he is only trying to find her partner. He hopes soon enough she will come to believe that, and trust him. He’s not sure how long that will take but he wants to help her.

It’s not until he finds her at Agent Mulder’s apartment asleep in his bed that he suspects the rumors might be true.

 _I came by to feed Mulder’s fish,_ she’d said. He’s not an idiot. He would have to be to not suspect what she’s so poorly trying to hide.

She may hide the truth from him, but at least he can tell when she’s doing it. Maybe that will be helpful in the future.

Until then, he does what he’s here to do: he searches.

The giant tombstone bearing the name Fox Mulder sits in the office like a monolith. It screams at them a truth that Agent Scully is having trouble believing. He knew she believed he was still alive out there, somewhere, but her ideas are way too out there for him to buy. He’s only trying to help.

“What do you make of all this, honestly?” he asks, sitting down in the chair across from her.

“Do you really even care to listen to what I think? You seem to have it all figured out,” she snaps. She looks so exhausted, defeated. He’d feel worse for her if she wasn’t so goddamn snarky with him all the time.

“Look, Agent Scully, I’m just trying to find Mulder, same as you. Now are you gonna help me out here or not?”

She picks up the medical records again, peruses them.

“These look legitimate,” she says. “He was sick. He never told me. I’m not sure why he didn’t. But as to your ‘theory’ about him faking his disappearance? No.”

“No?”

“No.” She is short, resolute. “He would never do that, not to me. He wouldn’t.”

Doggett narrows his eyes, looks her square in the face. His time as an NYPD officer helped him hone his ability to read people pretty well, but he’s finding Agent Scully to be pretty damn enigmatic. What is she hiding? Why is she so secretive?

“Are you afraid if you tell me certain things, I’ll judge you, Agent Scully? Or think of you differently?”

She levels her gaze at him, staring daggers. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re implying, Agent Doggett.”

“I’m only trying to be helpful.”

“I’ve told you everything that’s relevant to the case. I have nothing else to tell you that would be helpful in tracking down Mulder. ”

He sighs, leans back in his chair. “Okay, then. Let’s go back. What about this tombstone?”

She gets up, walks over to the tombstone and crouches down. She traces a fingertip over the freshly carved letters spelling out her partner’s name, then stops.

“His mother’s name is spelled wrong.”

“What?” He walks over.

“There,” she points. “It’s spelled T-E-N-A, should be T-E-E-N-A.”

She looks up at Doggett, and he can see relief on her face. “Nice try, though.” She starts to leave.

He gets up out of his chair to follow her. She’s not going to pin some shady cover-up bullshit on him. “What, you think I’m responsible for this? I’m just the messenger, here!”

“Someone had this made. Someone is trying very, very hard to cover up the real reason for Mulder’s disappearance and they are using the FBI to do it.”

“Not me, Agent Scully. I only just learned about this. I’m trying to find him, same as you. You’ve got to trust me.”

She shakes her head incredulously. “I don’t believe this. Did they really think I’d see this stupid tombstone and just buy it without asking questions?”

“You really think someone in the Bureau would go to all this trouble just to eliminate Agent Mulder? There have to be other ways to accomplish that.”

“They’ve done it before, Agent Doggett.”

“But the medical records-”

“I’ll believe he was sick. I’ll go as far as to believe he may have actually even been dying. But that tombstone?” She is pointing at it. “ _That_ is not Mulder. That is a sign of someone giving up. Mulder would never give up, not like this. And not without telling me.”

Doggett regards her for a moment. No matter his views on the man, this Agent Mulder is lucky as hell to have someone so dedicated to him.

“I want to believe what you’re saying is true, I really do. But this other explanation seems so much more… plausible, doesn’t it?”

She looks up at him, her face inscrutable.

“Doesn’t it?” he asks again.

She scoffs and looks away. “Oh, I’ll bet Mulder’s ears are burning as we speak.”

He’s not sure what she means by that, but she doesn’t seem in a mood to ask. She leaves the bullpen without another word. He wonders if she’s going back to his apartment again.

He hopes they find Agent Mulder, for her sake. He doesn’t know Agent Scully very well at all, but he can still understand loss.

He understands _that_ very well.

 

**SCULLY**

 

 

At first his absence doesn’t feel real, like he isn’t truly gone but just stuck in traffic or grabbing coffee or something. She’s got so much on her mind right now, so much on her heart, that she feels as if she should be able to distract herself.

And a baby on the way, apparently, although she has no idea how. A tiny piece of him left behind that won’t let her forget even for a moment he isn’t just a phone call away.

But then she enters their office and it’s full of agents digging through files. _Their_ files. Their work. For the umpteenth time in her adult life she feels violated, like they are removing pieces of him, pieces of herself.

This whole thing is a colossal joke too, because nothing on this planet is going to help the FBI track him down. The only person capable of finding Mulder is Mulder, currently zipping around on a spaceship above them, ostensibly.

She probably wouldn’t believe it herself, but she believes Skinner. And he isn’t backing down.

This Agent Doggett has no idea what he’s gotten himself into. She’d feel sorry for him if she wasn’t so goddamn pissed off at him. Poking into her private business, driving her crazy with his incessant refrain of “how well did you really know Mulder?”

_How well did you really know your partner?_

_How well did you really know your partner?_

She grits her teeth and silently screams at him _shut up, shut up, you have no idea. No idea._

She can’t let Agent Doggett know the nature of their relationship. She can’t tell him she’s pregnant with Mulder’s baby. He can’t know any of this. The FBI could use their relationship against her, and jeopardize their search. And she cannot let that happen.

 _I know Mulder as well as anyone,_ she’d said to him.

 _I know Mulder better than anyone_ , is the truth.

Someone at the FBI must have planted those car rental receipts at Mulder’s apartment when they scoured it. She and Mulder had gone to Raleigh once together in May to visit his mother’s gravesite, which must have been how the receipts were faked. She knows they're bullshit. But she can’t tell Agent Doggett this. That would mean telling him she knows he wasn’t in Raleigh because he was wrapped around her at her apartment those weekends.

When she saw the tombstone, her reaction had been visceral. She didn’t understand what this stupid tombstone was even doing at the FBI office in the first place. Who sent it? How did it get here? None of it made any sense. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. The reveal, the melodrama, all of it seemed so stage-managed to get a reaction out of her, and it had worked, at least it had seemed to.

It had never been more clear to her the Bureau was attempting to whitewash what had happened to Mulder. What had been a tragedy for her had become a golden opportunity for the FBI.

It was easy to figure out that there was a cover-up taking place here. But reading those medical records is like a slap to the face. She wants to believe they're fake, too, but something in her gut is telling her this part has to be true.

How could Mulder not have told her how sick he was? She shouldn’t be surprised; he’s hidden things from her in the past, because he thought he’d be protecting her. The vial of her own stolen ova leaps to her mind, that he’d somehow found in a warehouse and kept hidden from her to spare her feelings. They weren’t viable and he didn’t want to give her more bad news, he’d said. It made her angry then and it makes her angry now.

His stubbornness can be endearing at times, and he’s proven it to be so on multiple occasions. But there are times when it can be maddening, when he holds back, when he won’t tell her something. She knows he only wants to protect her. She wishes he’d respect her desire to not be so protected.

Everything is falling into place now. Suddenly things seem clear. Mulder telling her to quit the X Files, telling her to do more with her life. That last night they were together, how it felt restless and desperate.

How he hasn’t told her he loves her, even though she knows he must. She can feel it whenever they are together.

He thought he was dying. And now, maybe he is.

She’s in his apartment again. She’s not sure why she keeps coming here. Some morbid desire to be near him, any part of him, because she fears the worst, is the most likely possibility. She walks around, studying his belongings in a way she never had the freedom to before. Maybe it’s a violation of his privacy but right now, she doesn’t care.

They were here only a few days ago, together. How can this be happening? Why can’t they ever catch a break?

She goes to his kitchen and starts emptying out the fridge. It feels like a small part of her is giving up, but she convinces herself it’s the rational thing to do. There’s a jug of orange juice two weeks past its expiration date, a couple tubs of hummus, a wedge of moldy cheddar cheese and a single apple. She smiles a bit, wanting to laugh at the Single-Guyness of it all, but remembering he’d been spending so much time at her place lately; he probably hadn’t been shopping much. She dumps the food into a trash bag and ties it up.

Not knowing why, she removes her shoes and jacket and begins to clean up. She tells herself it’s the only thing she can do for him, so hopeless is every other avenue.

She wipes down all his countertops. She sweeps the entire floor. She scrubs the kitchen sink and then his bathroom, which she’s surprised to find as clean as it is, considering he’s always been a bit of a slob. Again, a small change she suspects is due to her presence in his life.

Her hands instinctively go to her abdomen. A baby, their baby, against all odds.

_How did this happen? How?_

She doesn’t want to question it. It’s a gift, plain and simple, and she’s so happy to have it. But she’s not dense, either… the conditions under which this baby was conceived make its very existence suspect.

The sun has gone down without her realizing it, while she’d been cleaning. The possibility of Agent Doggett dropping by to feed the fish again notwithstanding, she doesn’t want to go home. There's nothing for her there. There's nothing for her here, either, but at least here she can feel his presence. So she goes into Mulder’s bedroom and closes the door.

She takes off her clothes, finds one of his T-shirts in the dresser and slips into it. She immediately starts crying; she can’t help it. The smell of him, the feel of his shirt on her skin. It’s all too much, everything feels so hopeless.

She turns the lights off and climbs into his bed. His bed, but whenever she was here it had been their bed, for a few short precious weeks. She lays her head on his pillow and breathes in his scent deeply. She can’t believe how empty she feels without him.

As she lays here, she revisits a memory in her mind, and at some point the memory fades seamlessly into sleep.

_It’s months ago, before his abduction, before their relationship changed, before his mysterious illness must have began._ _Mulder is laying on her couch when she unlocks her door to go inside. He knows right away from her face._

_“It didn’t take,” he says. It’s not a question._ _He goes to her and hugs her tightly._

_“It was my last chance,” she sobs. She knows the in-vitro was too much to hope for._ _He kisses her forehead, the soft light of the sun setting peeking through the window._

_“Never give up on a miracle,” he says._ _They hold each other for a long time, and then he releases her. Maybe he’s going for his jacket to go, maybe he wants to leave her alone, but she doesn’t want to be alone. She grabs his arm._

_“Mulder, don’t go.”_

_He stops. “Okay, I won’t.”_

_“Please stay with me tonight.”_ _She honestly doesn’t mean it to sound the way it comes out. She’s immediately embarrassed._ _“I mean- I just don’t want to be alone right now. Please.”_

_He never denies her anything._ _“Of course Scully, whatever you need.”_

_"Thank you.”_ _She goes to her bedroom and he follows her. He sits on the easy chair by her bed quietly while she goes into her bathroom. He waits while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. He waits while she puts her pajamas on._

_He will always wait, as long as she needs him to._

_She comes out of the bathroom and starts to get into her bed and he stands up._

_“I’ll be out on the couch if you need me,” he announces, jerking a thumb in the couch’s general direction._

_She thinks back to when he was recovering from his brain surgery and the comfort he’d received from her simply laying by his side. It comforted her, too. She needs that comfort tonight._

_“No, Mulder… can you please stay in here? With me?”_ _She doesn’t mean sex. She thinks he knows she doesn’t mean sex. That’s not what this is about, not tonight. She prays he doesn’t misunderstand._

_“...Scully?” he’s confused, doesn’t want to get it wrong._

_“I just want you to hold me. Can you do that?”_

_He looks at her tenderly._ _"Yeah, I can do that,” he answers._

_He takes his jeans off and climbs into her bed with her for the very first time. His arms go around her waist and he pulls her close, her back to his chest. She cries softly and he tries his hardest not to, stroking her hair gently._

_They share her bed that night, fully clothed, thoughts of all kinds scattered between them, thoughts of secret love, confusion, but mostly unwieldy sadness bouncing around the room from end to end until the thoughts finally still and they fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Within" written by Chris Carter.  
> Dialogue from "Per Manum" written by Chris Carter & Frank Spotnitz.


	11. DEVASTATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She closes her eyes. Why had it been so hard for them to talk to each other, really talk to each other? They were so good at talking about everything else but their feelings. For so long they had been afraid, fear holding them back from the truth. All they sought was truth and it had been right there for them both, right in front of them. They’d wasted so much time and now it was all over for them."

**_DEVASTATION_ **

**(post This Is Not Happening)**

 

**SCULLY**

 

The last time she felt this way was when Ahab died. He was the center of her world, he was everything to her, and right when Mulder began to take over that role in her life her father up and died on her, leaving a hole in her heart she knew she’d never quite be able to fill.

She didn’t blame Mulder for that, obviously. But at the time she blamed herself for feeling that way. She feared she failed her father, that she never lived up to what she believed he’d expected of her. She is at peace with this now, she knows he was her father and loved her no matter what.

But then… _then._ It had been awful. The pain in her mother’s eyes, her siblings, her own whenever she happened to pass by a mirror.

Mulder had been there for her. He hadn’t yet dealt with the loss of a parent, but his own loss of his sister had been just as devastating. Over the years as they lost family members one by one, loss was something that they shared, leaning upon each other, giving and receiving each other’s pain.

Now, she has no one to share her pain with anymore.

She remembers a similar feeling, multiple times in the past, when she thought she might have lost him. That buried train car in New Mexico. When he’d gotten shot in that bank robbery. The tobacco beetles. The field in North Carolina, which was only a hallucination but the pain she’d felt was very real.

Now she’s lost him forever. She failed him utterly, completely. She wasn’t able to save him. She can barely bring herself to think it, let alone say it. She can’t breathe, can’t function, doesn’t even want to get out of bed anymore.

But she does. She has to, because she still has part of him inside her. The tiny life growing there that against any possible logic or sense somehow has taken hold and thrived.

A miracle. _Their_ miracle.

It’s been weeks now since she buried him. She’d debated performing an autopsy to ascertain his precise cause of death, but the coroner was satisfied that the external damage was sufficient explanation. The FBI certainly wanted to clean their hands of the entire thing, Scully frankly wouldn’t trust another soul to do it, and could never have done it herself. It was indeed a quandary. In hindsight perhaps she’d have made a different decision, but she was in no state at the time. And if she was being honest, she felt nothing she could possibly have turned up would have mattered.

It couldn’t bring him back. Nothing would.

She convinces herself of this in times when she wishes she had more answers; answers she knows would only make her feel worse, not better.

She enters his apartment for what feels like the hundredth time since he went missing. She’s been sleeping here more and more. She knows it’s silly to keep paying his rent but he’s left everything he owns to her in his will and she simply hasn’t been able to face it.

So she delays. Delays removing this place from her life completely. Delays sifting through his memories, most of which will only further break her broken heart. Delays moving on, surviving him.

She doesn’t know how to do that.

The only source of comfort she’s had has been her mother, and there’s only so much she can really share with her. Maggie cared for Mulder unquestioningly over the years, and while Scully hadn’t really confided the complex nature of their relationship to her, she suspected her mother had known the truth of it all along.

She wishes she had someone, anyone to confide in. All her friends from over the years had fallen away as she moved deeper and deeper into Mulder. He had become her rock, her everything, at the expense of all else, and now he’s gone.

She places her hands on her belly, finally beginning to swell, while waiting in the office of her therapist.

Dr. Karen Kosseff had always been a comfort to her in times of stress or need. She hasn’t been to see her in years, and wonders if the doctor will remember anything about her. She does know it’s the only thing she can think of to do; the only person she can think to talk to.

“Dana,” the doctor opens her office door and greets her with a friendly handshake, holding Scully’s hand and gently covering it with her own. She looks just the same, eyes stern but filled with warmth, her short hair cropped a bit closer now.

“Hello, Doctor.” Scully maneuvers herself into the soft couch, and sinks down a bit. Down, down, down, as if she can get any lower.

“I was very sorry to hear about Agent Mulder, Dana. Losing a partner can be just as difficult as losing a family member.”

Scully knows she’s here to talk, but suddenly she can’t. The tears are already welling in her eyes. She just wants to cry and cry and know Dr. Kosseff will not judge or pity or do any of the things most of the people in her life are doing. Maybe that’s the reason she’s here: to cry.

So she does. Her forehead crinkles and she doubles over, heaving and sobbing in a way she hasn’t allowed herself to in front of another soul. Dr. Kosseff moves to the chair beside her and rubs her back.

After a minute or so her cries subside. Her breath hitching, she reaches for the tissues on the table.

“Thank you.” Her voice is small but grateful. She finally looks into the therapist’s eyes and sees something she’s needed to see for weeks: complete and utter understanding.

“How is your new partner dealing with this, with you?” Dr. Kosseff asks.

“Agent Doggett has been supportive, as much as I’ll allow him to be.”

“Will you … allow him to talk to you about Agent Mulder?”

Shaking her head, Scully sighs. “No. We are friendly, but… no.”

“I know you’ve had problems in the past, letting your partner in. Letting him worry, letting him care. Are you having these problems with Agent Doggett?”

Scully looks at her lap. “It’s... different. It’s a completely different situation.”

Dr. Kosseff eyes her, and slowly sits back into her chair. “Dana, I hope you don’t think you need to keep the nature of your relationship with Agent Mulder hidden from me. Anything you say to me is in the strictest confidence.”

Scully looks up, surprised.

“I’ve been listening to you for years, Dana. I’m taking a leap here but I can tell you need someone to talk to about him, and I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me.”

Scully sighs and looks down again. She supposes there’s little point in hiding the nature of their relationship from the Bureau anymore anyway. “We never told anyone. Although I’m sure AD Skinner knew.”

Dr. Kosseff looks at her sadly. “So... he _was_ your family.”

Scully nods. “It happened so gradually, I hardly noticed it. I’m not used to being so reliant on another person. But he was part of me, and now that he’s gone… I feel like part of me is gone, too.” She laughs softly to herself. “That sounds so cliché, I know.” Dr. Kosseff waits, knowing she has more to say.

“After he disappeared I found out he was very sick. He was actually dying. He’d known for awhile and never told me. I can’t even tell you how upset that made me. I mean… it was _me._ He’d gone to so many other doctors but never confided in me. Why? Why would he do that?”

Dr. Kosseff looks thoughtful. “Do you think it’s possible he was just afraid to tell you? That he didn’t want to hurt you? That it hurt him to have to tell you something like that?”

Scully considers this. “You may be right, but I can’t help but feel like… like he stole that time from me, from both of us. I thought about back when I was suffering from my cancer. At the time I didn’t realize how lucky I’d been for my family to have that time with me. It was such a strange feeling, knowing I was dying and taking stock. Appreciating the moments we had together. It was a blessing.” She shakes her head. “That slow death knell was actually a blessing.”

She leans forward to take the box of tissues on the table in front of her, still looking at her lap.

“But this? This is absolute torture. This… sudden loss, like a candle has been extinguished and you’re left completely alone in the dark. I know the reason he died had nothing to do with his disease, but the outcome would have been the same if he’d never told me.” She looks down at her hands. “He kept me in the dark, and I hated that feeling. I hated when he did that. I’ve been in the dark as long as I’ve known Mulder. But he was always the one who brought me light. He was always there with me. Whenever things were hard, at least we were always together.”

Dr. Kosseff is silent, listening.

“We didn’t get the slow death knell. We didn’t get to take stock. I would have done things differently if he had told me he was dying. If I knew I’d only have a short time with him, I’d have done so many things differently.”

“What things?”

She finally looks up at the doctor. “I would have told him that I loved him. I would have stopped being afraid. Maybe it would have changed a lot of things. I should have been braver.”

Dr. Kosseff smiles a bit. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How we only think we can be brave when we have a reason to be.”

Scully ponders that. Her mind drifts to the night she went to him in his bedroom and tore down their walls for no reason at all, only because she wanted to. How good it had felt, how it had changed everything.

“Are you _still_ upset, Dana? About Agent Mulder’s decision to not tell you about his illness?” Dr. Kosseff asks.

She shakes her head. “Of course not. How can I be, now? It just makes me question so much.”

“Like what?”

Scully pauses for a moment, thinking. She knows fear hadn’t been the only thing holding her back from telling him she loved him. Truth was, she’d wanted him to say it first.

“Like how he really felt about me.”

Dr. Kosseff raises an eyebrow. “Dana, how could you possibly question that? You know how much he cared about you.”

“I know that, I know he did. I guess it’s just painful now, realizing I don’t know how much. I’ll never know, not really.” Her hands go to her belly. “I wish he’d known. I wish we’d both known before he left. Maybe things would have been different.”

The doctor leans forward a bit. “You mean... about the baby?”

Scully nods. She needed to tell someone. She feels a sense of relief. The doctor sits back again and regards Scully.

“I can only imagine how hard this must be, but Dana, this baby is an incredible gift. Especially considering all you’ve been through. It’s something he left behind that will always be a part of you.”

“I know, I know that.” She looks away, feeling the tears well up again. “And I'm so grateful. But I hate feeling this way, feeling like I missed my chance to tell him how I felt about him. Maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have left. Maybe he'd still be alive, and we would still be together.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Agent Mulder.”

“But I do. I do blame myself. I… I failed him.”

“Dana, no one could have predicted this. Especially you. Nothing you did caused this to happen.”

Scully feels a pain in her heart, something like regret. She stares blankly into space, not really talking to the doctor anymore, but talking to herself. A realization that completely guts her. “He’s dead and he never even knew I loved him. He never knew.”

Dr. Kosseff leans forward to take Scully’s hands in hers, and offers her a final piece of wisdom.

“I believe he knew.”

 

 

***

 

 

Closing the door behind her, Scully looks around. She sees Mulder’s fish tank, bubbling softly, the spaceship inside quietly ascending, descending. She sees his couch, the leather worn in one spot where he slept alone all those years.

She goes to his closet and starts pulling out clothes, slowly. It’s time to do this. One at a time, his shirts come out as she lays them on the bed. Some she can remember him wearing certain places, some she can’t. Then the ties. Then the pants.

As she starts to remove a black pair, something makes her pause. She runs her fingers along the fabric, and as they drift downward across the pocket she hears a crackling noise.

Confused, she reaches her hand inside and pulls out a small piece of paper folded in half.

 

~~_Dear Dana_ ~~

~~_Dearest Dana_ ~~

 

_Scully,_

 

_I don’t know where to start. I_

 

She stares at the writing, his writing. He’d certainly tried to tell her something. He had been trying. There were things that remained unsaid.

She closes her eyes. Why had it been so hard for them to talk to each other, really talk to each other? They were so good at talking about everything else but their feelings. For so long they had been afraid, fear holding them back from the truth. All they sought was truth and it had been right there for them both, right in front of them. They’d wasted so much time and now it was all over for them.

When her father had died, she'd known without a doubt that he'd loved her, and she knew he'd known she had loved him. Now, with Mulder, all she can feel is regret.

She takes the note, folds it, puts it in her pocket. She cannot face this today after all. She will try again tomorrow.

 

***

 

 

Scully stands at the gravesite. She doesn’t know what to say, how to say it, and what to do afterwards. Getting here was a struggle.

She’s believed in God for most of her life but today is one of those days she’s less than certain. She knows she should pray but she wants to curse God for taking him away from her.

She wants to talk to Mulder more.

_I never imagined having to do this, Mulder. I should have, considering our line of work. I just… didn’t want to face it, I guess._

_I should never have let you go without me. I should have told you I needed to come with you. Together we could have prevented this, I know it. We could have done anything together. We could have taken on the world together. Now we don’t even get to try._

_I’m not sure how to move on from this. I need you to help me, and you aren’t here._

_Do you remember that night at the Liberty Bell when we talked about the afterlife? I’ve been thinking about that night a lot. I’m not sure what I think about ghosts, or an afterlife, not anymore. But I hope to God it’s true. I hope you can hear me because I need to tell you how much I loved you. I need you to know that you were my whole world._

_I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to let you know that. I should have told you every day how I couldn’t live without you. Then maybe I wouldn’t be trying and failing to do just that right now._

 

 

 

**SKINNER**

**(DeadAlive)**

 

 

 

Assistant Director Walter Skinner peers through the window of Mulder’s hospital room and sees a familiar sight: Agent Scully sitting at his bedside, holding his hand. He doesn’t like the idea that he’s imposing upon a private moment, but the image of the two of them together is arresting. He marvels at her dedication.

It’s always been this way with them. One missing, or injured, or in trouble, and the other stopping at nothing to help. He’s never seen two people more fiercely devoted to one another in his life. Every person Skinner has ever encountered has had some failing, some drawback when it comes to protecting the people they love. A point where they falter, or give up.

Not Scully or Mulder. Never on each other.

Back when he was in the Marines, Skinner knew from loyalty. He witnessed it every day. Men and women relying on each other with their very lives, in constant danger. He’s never seen a pair forced to rely on each other in that way outside the battlefield.

At times he feels guilty, like he should have been more of a rock for the two of them. He’s tried, he really has.

Skinner has watched Scully and Mulder grow over the years from a vantage point no one else has been able to. He’s seen it all, the good, bad and the ugliest of ugly. Every single time they’ve been there for one another. He’d be envious if he wasn’t in such damn awe.

When that… spacecraft? Whatever it was, he can hardly believe himself at this point… took Mulder away, his thoughts immediately went to Scully. It was as if his mind couldn’t separate them. He was her, she was him, they were like a single entity. All he could think of was how he would tell her. How he somehow got into this position where he would have to watch her break.

Now, to see Scully like this… it’s awful. It’s unfathomable. She’s lost her partner, her best friend, and although she may be unaware he knows, more than even that.

It’s strange seeing this new Scully, this broken Scully. He never expected her to need anyone to take care of her. Losing Mulder had an effect on her he’d never wished to see, and he hadn’t anticipated this shift into being one of her only real sources of support. He wants to be there for her, he just has no idea how.

He’s about to enter the room when he notices her take Mulder’s hand and place it over her pregnant belly.

He knew already, he really did. How could he not? But seeing this simple act of love has taken his breath away. The tragedy before him is staggering. How could anyone possibly understand what these two have had to go through? And now to see it all end like this? It’s beyond words.

He knocks quietly and enters. “Can I come in?”

”Yes,” she replies, quickly moving their hands from her stomach to the bed.

“Any news?” he asks. After he’d taken Mulder off life support, the virus in his body had stopped thriving. It looked very possible he could survive, but for now it was a waiting game. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up, not yet.

She shakes her head. “We wait.”

He crosses the room and sits in a chair at the other side. Mulder looks much better, he has to admit. The tubes are out and he seems to be breathing on his own.

“I don’t know if I ever thanked you for doing what you did,” Scully says. “For pushing for the exhumation. This wouldn’t even be possible if it weren’t for you.”

“It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if it weren’t for me,” he says sadly.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Scully quickly says. She wasn’t there, but he appreciates that she knows this much must be true.

“I need to tell you something, Dana.”

“What is it?”

He hedges a bit. “I told you there was a vaccine for Mulder, but I didn’t tell you the entire story.”

“So, tell me now.”

“Alex Krycek had the vaccine.”

Her brow knits in confusion. “Krycek? How is he involved in all this?”

“I’m not sure. I just know that he-“ he stops. “He wanted to kill your baby.”

Her hand lets go of Mulder’s and goes to her belly.

“My baby? Why? What does he have to do with my baby?”

“I don’t know. But I needed you to know that somehow he knew... about it.”

He watches her thinking for a moment, processing all this. He hasn’t the slightest idea what all this is about. Until Krycek showed up, he’d assumed there was nothing unusual about this situation. Scully turning up pregnant with Mulder's baby seemed like an inevitability somehow.

“Is there… something you need to talk about, Dana? Because I can be here for you, you know, if you need somebody to talk about this with.”

She sighs deeply. “I would, if I had any clue where to start.”

A horrible thought takes hold in his gut. He can’t explain it, he can’t understand it, but he feels compelled to speak it.

“Could the smoking man know about it too?”

She looks confused for a moment, then looks thoughtful, then closes her eyes. “That fucking fucker.”

He’s clearly hit a nerve but cannot disagree.

She opens her eyes and says “I can’t rule it out. I hate even thinking about that but I can’t.”

“I see,” he says. Even though he doesn’t see, not at all. She doesn’t seem to want to elaborate and he doesn’t push. He’s well aware of her history and abduction experiences and knows all the horrible things that have been done to her over the years. He can only imagine how easy it would have been for that fucking fucker to know everything about her, even to do something to her. He doesn’t want to think about it, either.

“I’m going to leave you two alone, okay? Please call me if there’s any news.” He walks over to her and squeezes her shoulder.

She briefly puts her hand over his. “Thank you, sir.”

He leaves the room and closes the door. He can’t help but glance through the window to watch them again, and his mind drifts to one of his last conversations with Mulder.

 

_They’re sitting next to each other on the flight to Oregon. He knows they both know what he’s just seen. He has to ask, he has to._

_“So… you and Agent Scully, huh?”_

_Mulder turns his head and looks at his boss. “I guess I can’t say no, after what you saw.”_

_Skinner grins, and faces forward. “I’m happy for you. She’s been through a lot, you both have.” He stares at the back of the seat in front of him. “I’m happy for you both.”_

_They are quiet a minute, only the loud hum of the plane in both their ears. Skinner has only one more question._

_“How long…?”_

_“Not long enough,” Mulder answers without missing a beat._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Dr. Kosseff and feel like we were deprived of a post-Mulder-death therapy session. She shipped it hard, god bless her.


	12. CONFUSION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He can feel his heart breaking in two. When he made the decision to let her go, he hadn’t realized exactly how painful the consequences would be. He feels like a fool. She’s done exactly what he told her to do. She’s moving on and living her life, without him. 
> 
> He’s lost her and there’s nothing he can do about it, nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my biggest pet peeves with season 8 is Mulder’s inexplicable behavior towards Scully in “Three Words” and the shift we see from that to the pizza man banter in “Empedocles.” I truly believe there was so much story here, a truly wasted opportunity for character development. Missing scenes galore. So this is my attempt at making the inexplicable… explicable.

**_CONFUSION_ **

 

**MULDER**

**(DeadAlive)**

 

“Mulder?”

He opens his eyes and she is there.

He doesn’t know exactly where he is, but it looks like a hospital room. A familiar sight. He feels as if time has passed but he doesn’t know how much. He felt it when he was in the dark place, when they poked and prodded and tortured him endlessly.

He’d wanted to die. He felt dead. Then…. nothing.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in that place but it must have been a long time. He sees it in her face now, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Hi,” she greets him, a glow in her eyes that looks different, new. He can’t quite place it. It’s been so long since he’s seen her face, and the anguish he sees isn’t something he wants to remember. He wants to forget, he wants to forget all of this, so he cracks a joke.

“Who are you?”

Her smile disappears and her lower lip trembles. He knows she’s about to start explaining who she is, who he is, everything he would expect her to say. He’s not about to put her through that so he smiles at her, letting her know he’s kidding.

She chokes back a relieved sob. “Oh my god, don’t do that to me.”

She reaches out to touch his forehead, smoothes back his hair, something she always does. The intimacy comforts him.

“Do you know… do you have any idea what you’ve been through?” She says this to him as she cries, but he knows what she really means is does he have any idea what _she’s_ been through. Her tears are of joy, of relief, of release. They are together again, somehow.

“Only what I see in your face.”

He can’t possibly understand anything at the moment. He doesn’t know where he is, how much time has passed, anything. But he sees her. He always sees her.

She gets as close to him as she physically can, her head on his chest. Soon the memories of what happened to him will come screaming back, he knows it. He tries to capture this moment so he has something pleasant to recall when they do. He breathes in the scent of her hair, and a hundred happy memories of her enter his mind.

“Anybody miss me?”

She laughs. Oh, how he’s missed that laugh. Maybe if he hears it enough he’ll be able to forget.

They stay together like that for a long time, holding each other. Eventually she gets up to check his vitals and the sight of her enormous pregnant belly hits him like a ton of bricks.

_How…?_

Suddenly he’s certain he must be dreaming. He must be, this is impossible. The in-vitro didn’t work, and Scully can’t conceive naturally. She can’t be pregnant.

This isn’t real. None of this is real. He isn’t here at all, and neither is she. He must still be stuck in the dark place. He can’t breathe.

The machines are going wild and Scully looks panicked. “Mulder?! What’s wrong?” The last thing he sees is her screaming for assistance and a team rushing in to help as the darkness takes him.

 

***

 

When he wakes again he is so tired. He doesn’t know which way is up. The disorientation is only compounded by the memories of his torture, slowly starting to seep in. He feels like a soldier returned from war.

“Mulder?” Scully is still there. “I’m here.”

“Scully…”

She takes his hand. “You had some kind of panic attack but everything seems to be okay now. How are you feeling?”

“Tell me.” His voice is practically pleading.

_What the fuck is going on?_

He tries to get a good look at her, tries to decide if he’s still dreaming or not. She’s sitting down again and he can’t see anything.

“You’re…” he trails off, not sure how to complete the sentence.

She looks at him, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re going to think about this.”

“Lay it on me, Scully.”

“When we found you, you were dead, Mulder. There were other abductees that had been returned and healed, and I tried to get you help but it was too late. As of three months ago, you were dead. I buried you in Raleigh, we had a funeral and everything.”

He tries to absorb this.

“Are you ready for more?”

He isn’t, but nods.

“A few days ago, Billy Miles’ body was found in the ocean. He’d been abducted and returned just like you, and he’d been dead for months. But his body hadn’t decomposed. He was still effectively alive.” She shakes her head, as if she can’t believe she’s actually telling him this. “Skinner found out about it and thought the same might happen to you. So he had your body exhumed. We don’t know how… but here you are, Mulder. I’m trying not to question it.”

“You? Trying not to question it?” he smiles, his first real smile since he woke up.

“I have you back,” she says simply.

For Scully, when it comes to matters of faith she’s far less of a skeptic. It makes no fucking sense to him but it only makes him love her more.

“Is there… anything else?” He’s fishing, and he feels like an idiot for having to ask about the elephant in the room, but he’s so unsure about what the hell is going on he’s not sure how to ask, what to say, or what to even expect. 

Either she doesn’t pick up on what he’s really asking about or she doesn’t know how to start, either. Maybe she just assumes his own condition is more important.

“That’s all we know right now.”

“There’s something I have to tell you too, Scully,” he suddenly remembers. He knows he can’t hide his own secret from her any longer. “Back before… well, before… you and I…” he gestures between them and she smiles in understanding.

She already knows what he’s going to say. “I know about all the brain disease, Mulder. We obtained your medical records while we were searching for you.”

He closes his eyes, lays back on the pillow. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

She squeezes his hand. “That doesn’t matter, Mulder. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Did the doctors… say anything about that? Don’t tell me you resurrected a dead man for nothing.”

“We aren’t sure yet. They’re running some tests. We should know more in the morning.”

He looks at her face. He hasn’t seen anything so beautiful in forever and it’s like sustenance. “Can you do me a favor, Scully?”

“Yes. Anything.”

“Pinch me or something? Just humor me.”

She laughs. “I promise you this is all real, Mulder.” She doesn’t pinch him but she squeezes his hand tightly for emphasis.

She stands up. “I think you should get some rest.”

He watches her get up and sees her belly again. He turns away and squeezes his eyes shut.

_Wake up, wake up. This is torture._

She must take his reaction as acquiescence to sleep because she lets go of his hand and starts to walk out of the room.

“We… have a lot to talk about, Mulder. I’ll be back later, okay?”

He keeps his eyes shut and doesn’t respond. Maybe she will think he’s trying to sleep. He hears the door close and turns his head, opening one eye. Through the window, in the hallway, he sees her with a man. He is a bit older than her, in a suit and tie with bright blue eyes. He puts his hand on her shoulder and smiles.

Mulder doesn’t know this man, he’s never seen him before. The bad thoughts he thought had disappeared after their first night together return, along with a sudden unexpected rush of jealousy.

That rush quickly transforms into something unbearable.

_Of course she’s moved on. Of course she has._

He’s been gone for so long. And this guy, whoever he is, somehow gave her what he couldn’t. This must be why she hasn’t mentioned her pregnancy yet.

Everything now clicks into place. This isn’t a dream after all. It’s completely real, and it’s hell.

All the indecision and uncertainty weighing on his mind before he was abducted suddenly doesn’t matter anymore. He wants to panic. He doesn’t want to imagine his life without her, and for the first time ever he’s thinking about the very real possibility of her with some other man, raising some other man’s child, doing all the things she ever wanted to do with someone who is not him.

He can feel his heart breaking in two. When he made the decision to let her go, he hadn’t realized exactly how painful the consequences would be. He feels like a fool. She’s done exactly what he told her to do. She’s moving on and living her life, without him. 

He’s lost her and there’s nothing he can do about it, nothing.

Scully and the other man walk out of his view and he turns away from the window, tears threatening to fall.

 

 

 

 

**SCULLY**

**(Three Words)**

 

_He is alive._

This is literally all that matters, she tries to convince herself.

He’s back from the dead, unbelievably, and his mysterious brain disease has been miraculously cured. There will be plenty of time for them to figure everything out after he feels better, feels like himself again.

She’s pretty sure Mulder saw her belly in the hospital room, at nearly eight months pregnant he could hardly have missed it. So why hasn’t he said anything? Why hasn’t he smiled, or asked about it, or even made a joke? This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

Her instincts told her to deal with his recovery first, and broach this topic afterwards. Maybe that was a mistake. Now it feels like every conversation they have without mentioning it makes it harder and harder to bring up.

The last time they discussed her failed attempts at in-vitro was so long ago, before they even started sleeping together. He’d agreed to be her donor, and she assumed they’d both figure out the role he would be playing after they knew for sure he’d have a role to play. But it never happened, and neither did the discussion. They were both left completely in the dark on how they would have proceeded if it had.

She knows it’s her responsibility to say something, to start this conversation, but she doesn’t even know where to start. He’s probably confused about the _how_ , but so is she. How will she tell him something even she doesn’t understand?

As they ascend the elevator to his apartment, he turns to her. “Why’d you keep the apartment?”

She sighs, looks up at him. She doesn’t want to tell him the real reason: because she’s been sleeping in his bed nearly every night since he left.

“I would have given it up eventually. I just… couldn’t let it go. It would have felt like losing you all over again.” They walk down the hallway. “It’s still full of all your stuff. I never went through it.”

They’ve reached his door and walk in.

“Something looks different.” He looks around, takes it in.

“It’s clean,” she says.

“That’s it.” He walks over to the tank, counts the fish. “Missing a molly,” he points out.

“She wasn’t as lucky as you.”

_This isn’t right at all. He doesn’t sound like himself. What is wrong with him?_

She knows he’s been through an ordeal, to say the least, but he’s acting so strangely. This isn’t how she imagined this reunion all the nights she sat with him in the hospital, holding his hand, praying desperately that he would somehow survive.

They stand there silently for a few moments, then she speaks.

“Mulder… I don’t know if you’ll ever understand what it was like. First learning of your abduction, then searching for you and finding you dead, and now to have you back…” she trails off.

He sits on the desk. “You act like you’re surprised.”

He’s trying, she thinks. He’s trying to be Mulder again. Making jokes, diffusing awkwardness. But it’s not working today. Today they need to be serious.

“I prayed a lot,” she admits. “And my prayers have been answered.”

“In more ways than one,” he smiles, gesturing to the baby.

_There it is._

She sighs with relief, and touches her belly. “Yeah.” She’s about to tell him everything she knows but he beats her to the punch.

“I’m happy for you,” he says. “I think I know how much that means to you.”

Her heart drops into her stomach.

_...Happy... for me? Just me? What about us?_

They stare at each other like strangers.

_What the fuck is going on?_

He says he’s happy, so why does he look so sad? This is wrong, all of it. She can’t take it and she feels the tears start to well up.

“Mulder-“

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be cold or ungrateful, I just… have no idea where I fit in right now. I’m having a little trouble processing ...everything.”

She nods, and looks at the ground. This is clearly not going at all the way she’d hoped. Of all the uncertainties in her life, he has always been the one thing that stayed consistent: her true north. Her constant. Her touchstone. He’s so far off course at the moment she has no idea what to do. She doesn’t know why he’s acting this way. She doesn’t know how to react to this Mulder.

She thinks of Billy Miles and what happened to him, how he returned… not quite right. She feared this might happen, and although God has already answered her prayers she silently sends out one more, that this man is truly _her_ Mulder. That he’s come back to her fully. He just needs time, she thinks. Even more time.

Suddenly she feels a strong desire to leave. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll go.”

He’s looking anywhere but at her.

“Call me if you need anything,” she adds.

He finally looks up at her and smiles. “Okay, thanks.”

The door closes behind her, and she walks slowly down the hallway, more confused than ever. So much happened in this hallway, so many moments and conversations and meaningful events and even deaths, right here outside his apartment.

As she walks away from him she feels like she’s walking away from a stranger.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

It’s only been a couple days, and Mulder is back to all his usual tricks. Chasing leads, breaking protocol, pissing off Deputy Director Kersh, the works. Scully would be utterly annoyed if some part of her wasn’t relieved that he was at least behaving like himself again.

_Scully, if you know something that can get us moving forward again you need to tell me._

He had been referring to their work, but all she could hear was “get us moving forward again” and that’s all she wants to do. That was the last time they had spoken.

In the meantime, he’d broken into the Federal Statistics Center with the Lone Gunmen, gotten into a pissing contest with Agent Doggett, and they’d both escaped with their lives.

Business as usual, in other words.

She feels like maybe it’s a good time to talk to him, now that he’s gotten some of it out of his system. They’ve lost so much time already, and the baby is due soon. It’s time for a conversation. So she invites him over.

He arrives in jeans, a gray T-shirt and leather jacket.

_Christ, he looks good. Why does he have to look so good?_

She feels an involuntary flush and curses the gods for her third trimester horniness. It was easier before they’d gotten together, when regular sex wasn’t a part of her life. She'd been so wrapped up in her grief it wasn't something she was terribly focused on but having him here now in her apartment is bringing it all back. Being without him all this time has been miserable in other ways, she’s realizing.

“Hey.” He sounds… happy? Glad to see her? Things have been so fucking weird she doesn’t know what to expect.

“Hi.” She lets him in and closes the door. “Sit.”

“Oh boy,” he says nervously, but follows her instructions. She sits next to him on the couch. They just look at each other for a bit, then she takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to talk about work. I need to talk about us right now.”

“Okay.” He’s listening.

“I’m just going to come out and say this because I feel thirteen months pregnant and my hormones are crazy and I don’t want to play any games with you. Okay?”

He nods. He looks uncomfortable.

“Mulder. What the hell is _up_ with you? Why are you acting so strangely around me?”

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. He seems at a total loss for words.

“Ever since you got back you haven’t been yourself, I feel like we’re two people who have never met before. I don’t like it at all.”

He can’t speak for some reason so he stares at her belly.

“Yes!" she exclaims. "The baby! Please, let’s talk about it! You haven’t said anything, I thought… I thought you’d be happy.”

Finally, he speaks. “I am happy, Scully, I’m very happy for you.”

She’s so frustrated she wants to scream. “Yes, you said that. But what about _you_ ? How do _you_ feel about it?”

His mouth hangs open. “I … don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Her eyes go wild, and she stands up. “What I want you to say? I want you to say you’re happy for _us,_ Mulder! For me and for you and for _our_ baby!”

He looks confused. “Wait… what? How… the baby is mine?”

Her jaw drops and she stares at him, gobsmacked. “For fuck’s sake, Mulder, of course it’s yours! What is wrong with you?” She’s angry now. What did he think, she’d go off with some other guy right after he was abducted? Or right after she’d buried him?

“I’m sorry, Scully, please sit down, I’m sorry!” He grabs her hands and pulls her gently down next to him. “I… I got the wrong idea, I’m sorry.”

She looks him in the eyes and shakes her head. “Wrong idea how? What are you talking about?”

His eyes look apologetic, but the confusion on his face is palpable. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Scully, I have. I just... couldn’t figure how it could have been me. The in-vitro didn’t work, right? There’s no other way it could have happened, is there? I guess I just thought...”

He looks so, so confused, and upset. She finally begins to understand. He doesn’t know the baby is his. He thinks since the IVF didn’t work with him, she tried again with someone else. Or worse, was in a relationship with somebody else.

No wonder he’s been acting so strangely. It all makes sense now.

“I thought there must be… someone else.” He looks hurt, but catches himself. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, Scully. I mean… I was dead. And I all but told you to move on from me the last time we saw each other. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, _Mulder_.” She can’t take it anymore, she needs to hold him so badly. She throws her arms around him and pulls him to her as tightly as her stomach will allow. He returns the hug and they just sit there, breathing each other in. She laughs into his ear.  

“When did you think I’d have time to go out looking for men, Mulder? Honestly.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I feel like an asshole.”

She pulls away. “Yeah, you kind of have been. I thought this was some kind of _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ situation.”

“Nice, Scully.” He looks impressed.

“I just don’t understand how you could think that, Mulder. It took _us_ seven years to get together.”

“Well, _that_ was only because I’m an idiot.” He breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I thought maybe… that Agent Doggett. I really did.”

She sits back a bit. “What? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I really did.”

“You think I’d ask the man who was helping me look for you for his _sperm?_ Are you serious?”

She can tell he’s starting to feel the weight of her unspoken accusations of stupidity. “I don’t know, Scully. He has _very_ piercingly blue eyes. I almost got lost in them myself. His sperm might have been the way to go.”

She looks at him pointedly. “Mulder. That is not why you shoved him in Skinner’s office.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I would never admit to such a thing. Maybe a little bit.”

She playfully hits his shoulder, then flops back into the couch cushion, so relieved, eyes closed.

“I’m extremely territorial when it comes to you, Scully. What can I say?”

She rolls her eyes. She can’t believe that, as usual, they’ve managed to turn a simple misunderstanding into a huge problem. She loves everything about them together except their seemingly inescapable predilection to get in their own way.

She exhales loudly. “So. We should talk about this, then.”

“Yeah. Do you know how it happened? When?”

“I have no idea, Mulder.” It’s the truth. “I found out the same night you were abducted.”

“But… _how_?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just as shocked as you are. But there are definitely some things you need to know.”

She tells him everything she’s learned about Dr Parenti and the women involved in his experiments. How there was talk of alien babies and it had scared her.

“All of this feels so deeply connected to me and my own abduction, it would be remiss of me not to be at all concerned. But I’ve had so many tests done, Mulder. I’ve done tests myself. Everything checks out fine. The baby is normal and healthy.”

He thinks a moment. “I hate to even entertain this, Scully, but… do you think it’s possible the cancer man has something to do with this? I mean, you told me he may have drugged you. Could he have… done something to you?”

“I considered that,” she replies. “It would be irresponsible of me not to.”

“...And?”

She sighs. She isn’t stupid, she’d done the math. External involvement had been a concern of hers since the day she learned of her pregnancy. But she is still Scully, and she still deals with these things the way she always has. “I don’t know. I guess I’m actively deciding not to go there. That son of a bitch has done enough damage to both of us. I don’t want to give him another minute of my time.”

They are both quiet a moment, contemplating this.

“I hate this so much, Mulder,” she suddenly blurts out. “I’ve been given everything I ever dreamed of and I hate that I’m having to question it. And you’ve been gone… it’s just been so difficult. I’ve had to go through everything alone. It’s been impossible to enjoy.”

He squeezes her hand. “Well, I’m here now.”

She smiles at him.

He continues. “I’m just feeling this… insane mix of emotions right now. I’m so happy to have helped give you back a dream. It’s more than I could have hoped for. But I’m not gonna lie, Scully, I’m worried. For the first time I feel as skeptical as you can be.”

She’s so relieved to know she really has her Mulder back she allows him the familiar protectiveness she’s used to. “I know. But everything is okay, the baby is perfectly healthy.”

“And… you’re sure, absolutely sure it’s mine?”

“As sure as you’d expect me to be. I had an amnio and I ran the DNA against yours. It’s a match, Mulder.”

He sits back into the couch and exhales deeply. “Wow.”

They’re quiet for a moment. “You know," she says quietly, "they’re talking a lot at work. I hear things.”

“Like what?”

“Just talk. About you and me. And the baby. There’s a lot of it. I actually overheard Arlene talking about an office pool.”

He narrows his eyes. “What exactly are you implying, Scully? That everyone at the FBI thinks I knocked you up?”

She shrugs and grins. In the weeks leading up to his abduction the rumors had most certainly gone from bad to worse. “Can you blame them?”

He smiles, finally, the smile she’s been waiting to see. “Sure I can, because you and I just work together.”

“Right. We just work together.”

“We work _really well_ together.”

She grins. “That, we do.”

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it, Scully. And until this baby comes out, anyone is under suspicion. For all we know, it could be a mini-Kersh.”

She laughs. “It couldn’t be anyone else’s, anyway.” She runs her fingers along the nape of his neck, into his hair. “I wanted to be thorough with the testing. But… there hasn’t been anyone else.”

He tilts his head back into her hand and turns it to look at her, finally catching her eye in a very familiar way, a very specific way she’s missed.

“Well, this is excellent news, Scully. I’m very happy. _For us_.” He lets go of her hand in order to place his on her belly. “I’m worried about the kid though, to be honest. Half you and half me? How the hell will he get anything done?” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Who said anything about a he?”

“What, it’s a girl?”

“I’ll never tell.” She gives him a playful smile. She knows the truth, of course. But for some reason she wants to keep it to herself, for now.

“Seriously, Scully? You’re not going to tell me?”

“Don’t you want to be surprised?”

“No. I hate surprises. You know this.”

She slowly moves her other hand along his thigh. “I do know.”

The relief she feels that Mulder is actually Mulder, and not a pod person, and not some alien replicant, and not behaving coldly or ungratefully anymore, has evolved. Now she just wants him back, all of him, the way they were before. Right now.

The pregnancy hormones are powerful.

His eyes narrow. “Are you trying to seduce me, Agent Scully?”

“Yes.”

He shifts in his seat. “Um… is that… allowed?”

“What, you’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before?” she teases.

“Actually, no. But I just added it to my bucket list.”

“Well, it’s doctor-approved.”

“Really?”

She pushes his chest until he’s flat on the couch, and with great effort climbs onto his lap. “Yes, Mulder. I’m a doctor, and I approve.”

“Jesus. I _really_ like Pregnant Scully.”

“Mulder. I’m in third trimester hell. Please put me out of my misery.” Her lips clamp down onto his with a fervor she doesn’t recognize. She can’t recall another time when she felt this hungry for him, for anyone, and as she feels his lips move beneath hers, tasting him, she feels whole again. Just a couple days ago he was dead. Now here he is, in the flesh, and she can’t wait anymore.

He sits up a bit as they kiss, allowing her to tear his jacket and shirt from his body, her lips then moving to his chest, covering every inch of him, verifying his mortality. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so turned on in her entire life. Some external force has taken over her body and she feels carnal, animalistic. She wants to do things to him she wouldn’t normally think about. She tries to blame the hormones but she knows it’s probably just him.

It all happens fast, so fast, and she unzips his jeans, pushing them down just enough to reveal verifiable evidence that he indeed missed this just as much as she did. She rises up onto her knees and maneuvers herself down onto him, extended foreplay utterly unnecessary this time.

The changes in her body have made everything feel different in a really good way, and she immediately decides they need to do this again as much as humanly possible before the baby comes. Life has been so awful and sad for so many months that she doesn’t even care that it’s all over much quicker than she would typically like it to be. It was everything she needed and more. 

She tries to lay on top of him as she breathes heavily, sweating and shaking, but her enormous belly is in the way and after a minute he tries to lift her up.

“Scully…” he pants. “I’m sorry but you have to get up, I can’t breathe.”

She moves off him, laughing, and his arm goes around her as he tries to keep her from sliding off the couch. 

“What’s funny?” he asks.

“I was just thinking about when you said you didn’t want this baby to come between us.”

He laughs. “Well, I obviously had no clue what the hell I was talking about.” He pulls her close, the couch far too small for her to feel as comfortable and content as she does.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "DeadAlive" and "Three Words" written by Chris Carter & Frank Spotnitz


	13. DECLARATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She looks at him and is so, so happy. For the very first time they are in exactly the place she wants them to be: honest with each other, completely open. And wholly, perfectly in love."

**DECLARATION**

**(Existence)**

 

**SCULLY**

 

Democrat Hot Springs is typically a quiet place, but not tonight. Tonight it’s a hot ticket, as dozens of alien replicants witness the birth of one William Fox Scully in the middle of the night.

As the hordes of replicants leave, Agent Monica Reyes appears in the doorway of the abandoned storefront, Mulder in tow. It’s not a typical new father scenario, yet his emotional state is a familiar one. Scully sees him burst through the door, eyes searching for her in a panic.

“Scully? Are you okay?” He runs to her, falls to his knees at the sight of her and the tiny bundle in her arms.

“We’re okay, everything’s okay,” she says. “They left. They’re leaving.”

He’s looking at the baby. He’s trying to get information from her but he can’t look away from this child, this new presence in the room. This life they created together. It seems to Scully as if some unseen force has gripped him and will not let go.

“Who were they? Why were they here?” he asks her.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she says. “They came and then he was born and then they left.”

He looks at her, eyes wide. “He? It’s a boy?”

She smiles, laughing. “Yes, Mulder. It’s a boy.”

She knows he would have been thrilled either way, but knowing makes it all real to him, makes this baby a real person.

He is a father. He has a son.

He leans over to her, laughing softly. He presses a kiss to her forehead, hair damp across her brow, sweat still dripping from exhaustion. As she delicately passes the infant over to him, Monica comes back into the room to interrupt them.

“There’s a helicopter outside, Dana. We really need to get you to the hospital as soon as we can.”

Scully nods, and Mulder stands up with the baby. Monica helps Scully to her feet and leads her out of the room toward the helicopter Mulder had arrived on.

As Scully is loaded onto the helicopter, she sees Mulder take Monica by the arm. “Thank you, Agent Reyes. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Monica smiles warmly. “Any time, Agent Mulder.”

He climbs onto the helicopter, the baby tucked in closely. He sits next to Scully and takes her hand.

 

***

 

That was only a couple days ago, but so much has happened since. Mulder had stayed with her in the hospital every minute, making sure she and the baby had everything they needed, and keeping an eye out for any rogue alien replicants that might come storming the maternity ward.

Scully wondered then and wonders now if they’ll ever feel truly safe.

He’d slept two nights on the tiny cot in her hospital room, waking every couple hours to change a diaper or help with a feeding. In only a couple days, he’d fallen into fatherhood with gusto. Whenever the baby fussed he’d carefully lift him out of his bassinet and deliver him to Scully for a feeding. The joys of new parenthood belonged to them in these finite, wonderful moments.

She is dizzy and overwhelmed with exhaustion and love for this tiny new being in their lives, and for this new Mulder she’d only imagined could be a reality: the father to her child.

She can’t quite believe the three of them are standing here now quietly, peacefully, in her bedroom. Home at last.

The soft bundle passes from her arms to his, and she is glowing. The sight of Mulder holding their baby is the best thing she’s ever looked at. She wonders at the very possibility that she could be so happy in this moment.

He smiles broadly, a new smile she’s never seen before, at their son. He coos and sings softly. It’s heaven.

“What are you gonna call him?”

She had wanted to name him Fox, after his father, but when the reality of actually sharing this idea with Mulder became imminent she chickened out and changed her mind, relegating “Fox” to the middle name. Mulder dislikes that name for a reason and she feared the sentimentality would be overshadowed by those feelings.

But it was important to her that “Fox” was a part of his name. So she did it anyway, for her. She hadn’t told Mulder the name she’d chosen until now.

“William,” she says softly. And to make doubly sure he understands, she adds, “after your father.”

Her own father is named William too but she doesn’t want confusion. She wants Mulder to know for damn sure she’s in this with him for the long haul.

“From the moment I became pregnant I feared the truth. About how, and why. And I know you feared it, too.”

Now that they know William is safe, and theirs, she has no choice but to believe what she’d always hoped was true. She knows it’s been weighing on them both.

“I think what we feared were the possibilities,” he says. “The truth we both know.”

She looks up at him. “Which is what?” She’s practically whispering.

She wants him to say it: that they _know_ the how, and they _know_ the why. That the only reason this child exists is because of their love for each other, and they both know it.

In answer, he leans in to kiss her. Tears fill her eyes as she holds his arm, leaning into him as much as she’s able. She wants to put her arms around him but the tiny infant between them is preventing that. He seems to notice at the same moment.

He smiles and walks little William over to the bassinet, carefully placing him inside. The baby fusses for a moment but quickly calms, content.

He turns to her and raises an eyebrow. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

His next kiss swallows them both whole. Just to be holding each other in the midst of such bliss takes her by surprise. If she could stop her watch and suspend time like they experienced all those years ago in Bellefleur, Oregon she would live in this moment, right now, forever.

Mulder then takes her face in his hands, stares directly into her soul and delivers the words she’s been waiting to hear him say for so long.

“I love you, Scully.”

She closes her eyes and breathes him in, every moment precious.

“I love you too, Mulder.”

 

***

 

The next twenty-four hours are perfect. She can say now, with absolute certainty, these are the happiest moments of her life.

“Where should we live, Scully?” Mulder asks as they sprawl on her bed together with William asleep between them. She’s propped on one elbow and studies Mulder, his face covered in stubble, a receiving blanket draped over his shoulder, his gray T-shirt with a tiny splatter of spit-up. He’s never looked sexier.

“You want to live together?” 

“Well, this place is nice, but I think we’re going to need more space. And my place is out of the question.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I can’t imagine painting any part of that place a child-friendly pastel.” She looks at him seriously. “What kind of place would you want to live?”

“Somewhere quiet, with a big yard. Just you and me and the kid.”

“And a dog,” she interjects.

“Sure.”

“Sounds perfect.”

He continues. “Honestly, I didn’t think too much about all this after you asked me to… you know, donate.” He grins. “I figured we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. Then after you told me it hadn’t worked, I guess I just thought the whole thing was over.”

“I thought it was over too, Mulder. It came as a huge shock to me.”

“That couple weeks before my abduction, you were sick a lot. It never crossed my mind. Maybe it should have.”

Scully bites her lip, then has to ask.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Why didn’t you tell me about the brain disease?”

He sighs. “I didn’t even know what it was, Scully. I wanted to be sure. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“Mulder. I should have been the one helping you. I should have been the one treating you. Why?”

He looks over at her. ”It’s hard to explain. Maybe you’ll never understand it but it’s just the way it had to be. I didn’t want to worry you, cause you any pain. Especially after everything you’ve gone through.”

“That’s the reason I think I _would_ understand. I wish you’d confided in me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t. I only wanted to protect you.”

There he goes again, trying to protect her. She’s starting to wonder if he’ll always behave this way, regardless of her objections.

He rolls toward her and strokes William’s cheek. “I wish I’d known about the baby, Scully. I’d have never gone back to Oregon. I never would have left you alone.”

She watches him as he gazes at William. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was sick. I really thought it would be easier not telling you, especially knowing there was nothing to be done. We’d had such a short time together, I just didn’t want to make it feel even shorter.”

“Mulder, you’ve been through a trauma I can’t even begin to understand. I’m not discounting that at all. But you do understand how difficult it’s been for me too, don’t you? I missed you more than you’ll ever know.”

He props himself up on one elbow. “I do understand, Scully.” He looks at her pointedly. “You were taken from me once too, remember.”

“Yes, I know. But… things were different then. _We_ were different,” she says.

“Maybe. But it wasn’t easy for me either. I think… I think I loved you even then and didn’t know it.”

“For that long? Really?”

“It’s hard to say when it changed from loving you as my best friend into loving you like I do now.”

She closes her eyes and smiles. Her heart is so full. She won’t get tired of hearing it.

“I do know I was way too afraid to do anything about it,” he says. “For the longest time, I honestly never thought you felt the same way. Every time I wanted to kiss you I thought you’d probably slap me.”

She chuckles.

“And then… in the hospital after that whole Bermuda Triangle debacle, when I told you I loved you.. you shrugged it off. So I backed off after that.”

She shifts to look at him, eyes opening. “Wait… you remember that?”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Mulder, you were so drugged up I thought you were going to start telling Skinner you wanted to marry him, or the Gunmen. Or even your IV drip, for that matter.”

He sighs, laughs. “You’re right. It didn’t count.”

“Unbelievable.”

“And you ended up making everything happen. It was all you. Like all the time, always, doing everything that I couldn’t.”

She reaches over William to run her fingers through his hair.

“Okay, Scully. Give. I told you mine.”

She smiles. “What, you mean… when it happened for me?” He nods. “Well, I think you’re right. It’s hard to really know. When it actually happened and when I was aware it had happened are probably far, far apart.”

“Well, give me something.”

She thinks a minute. “During my cancer. I think that’s when I knew. And then that night we almost kissed outside your apartment… it was the first time I got an inkling that maybe you wanted something more, too. So it was the first time I really allowed myself to hope.”

“That fucking bee.”

She laughs. “I really wanted to tell you that first night... we were together. I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess we never really outgrow these fears of rejection.”

He shakes his head. “How much time we’ve wasted, Scully.”

“Maybe not,” she muses. “Everything that happened got us here, now. And I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with you, Mulder. Maybe it’s true. Sometimes nothing happens for a reason.”

He nods.They lay there together, the three of them, comforted and secure in each other. It feels amazing. “I guess you’re right. But in case I didn’t make it clear, I’m all in now, Scully. I want to be here for you both. In whatever capacity you’ll have me.”

_All in._

She looks at him and is so, so happy. For the very first time they are in exactly the place she wants them to be: honest with each other, completely open. And wholly, perfectly in love.

Her hand moves down to his chest and she feels a pang. “You realize you would totally get laid right now if I was in any way capable.”

He laughs and starts to carefully scoop William up. Mulder had proven himself quite the swaddling aficionado and as a result, the snoozing baby burrito doesn’t stir a bit as he gently lays him in his bassinet, then climbs back into her bed, wrapping his arms and legs around her, getting as close to her as possible.

“So really, Scully. Where are we going to live?”

She sighs, exhaustion beginning to set in. “Anywhere, Mulder. As long as we’re all together.”

“Funny, that was exactly my criteria, too.”

He tips her face towards his for a kiss. “Can I stay here with you?”

“You mean, like… move in? Here?”

“I want to stay here with you and William. And then we can decide where to go from here. I don’t want to leave either of you ever again. Ever.”

She thinks for a moment, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Scully? Is that what you want?”

Suddenly everything that’s ever happened to her in the past feels utterly insignificant. He wants to stay. Forever. “Yes, Mulder, that’s exactly what I want.”

She snuggles closer to him, their legs entwined. She rests her head against his chest.

“We should sleep. He’s going to be up again soon.”

“You know, Scully, I’m unemployed now. So I've been watching a lot of daytime television. I heard on Oprah last week that whenever the baby is sleeping, you should be sleeping. Which makes a lot of sense, because after giving birth, the whole new mom thing is like an adrenaline rush, so when you get really tired it just hits you like a ton of bricks. And then you don’t have the energy you need for the baby. So it’s probably a good idea to just sleep whenever you can.”

She’s asleep.

An hour later, the phone rings and ruins everything.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

 

He’s never really imagined himself as a father, but today he feels like one. When he holds William, smells his tiny head, gazes into his beautiful eyes that look just like Scully’s, he feels it.  He thinks of himself eight years ago, when he first met her, and how even though he knew their lives would somehow be forever entwined, he couldn't possibly imagine this.

His ringing cell phone jerks him out of his reverie.

 _Dammit,_ he thinks. He was sure he’d remembered to switch it to silent mode before the baby fell asleep. Luckily the kid doesn’t stir, and neither does Scully. He slips off the bed and quickly runs to pick up his cell.

“Yeah, hello? Mulder.” He hasn’t gotten used to answering his phone as an unemployed ex-FBI agent.

  _“Agent Mulder.”_ The gruff voice of Deputy Director Kersh.

“It’s just plain Mulder now, sir. You can’t possibly have forgotten that already.”

_“Mulder, you need to listen. I’m calling to warn you.”_

“Warn me about what?”

_“Your life is in danger, Mulder. I can’t stay on this line very long. Wherever you are, the danger will follow you. I suggest you disappear as soon as possible.”_

His heart drops into his stomach. _No, no…_

“How can you possibly know this? Where are you getting your information from?”

_“You know, Agent Mulder. You already know how close the danger is. The FBI has already been compromised.”_

“Sir, you can’t just call here like this, say these things-”

_“If you stay, it will put Agent Scully and her child in danger as well.”_

A cold chill wracks his entire body. He thinks of Agent Crane and his position within the FBI, how he relentlessly pursued them. He hasn’t forgotten, but he’s tried to forget. As if just ignoring the danger would make it disappear.

_“I have to go now. Please take this seriously, Mulder.”_

The line goes dead. Mulder stares at the cell phone in his hand, cursing himself for even answering it. Why is this happening now, right when he’s finally happy again?

He sits down on the couch and holds his head in his hands.

_Scully. The baby._

All he can think of now are horrible thoughts, intruders, supersoldiers busting her door down, throttling the life out of her, kidnapping the baby, him powerless to fight back.

All of them dead. Or even worse, him left alone, again.

How does Kersh know these things? If he’s helping Mulder, his own safety must be on the line as well. Why would he reach out to help him and Scully? They’ve always been a thorn in his side, a hindrance, a nuisance.

Well, _he_ has, anyway. Kersh has always respected Scully. Maybe he’s only helping Mulder to keep her safe.

The worst part is that even if none of this is true, a seed of doubt has been planted inside Mulder’s brain. A hint of fear that may follow him forever. The tiniest possibility that harm could come to Scully or William is enough for him to take this seriously.

For the first time in his life he really hates that the line of work he’s chosen has turned out to be so dangerous. When it was just him, he didn’t have to worry as much. But there are others involved now, people he loves, who could get hurt just because of him.

Mulder recalls something the cancer man had said to him during one the visions he’d subjected him to:

_At some point I realized that if the Syndicate didn’t kill you, the FBI would. If the FBI didn’t kill you, your own misguided heroism would. There’s really no way out for you. There’s no way for you to cheat death, except by disappearing._

Could that son of a bitch have been right? Will there ever be a way out for Mulder? Could he ever find any freedom from the forces against him? He wonders if he’s always been destined for this fate of solitude. It would be apropos, of course. If he’d never even met Scully, never had this opportunity for happiness, he may well have been resigned to such a fate.

But he did meet her. He did fall in love with her. And now they have a son together. They’re a family, they are _his_ family. Who would have thought Fox Mulder would be lucky enough to have a family once again?

He hears a cry, and knows William is awake. He walks slowly into the bedroom as Scully is lifting him out of his bassinet.

“Did I hear you talking to someone?” she asks. She sits in the rocker and unbuttons her pajama top, letting William latch. Mulder watches as the baby suckles contentedly, knowing this bliss won’t last much longer.

Of course it won’t. It never does.

She can tell something is up. “...Mulder? Was someone on the phone?”

His eyes finally find hers and he knows she knows something is terribly wrong.

 

***

 

Byers, Langly and Frohike are dropping the last of Mulder’s earthly possessions off at Scully’s apartment. Mulder hated to leave Scully and William even for an hour but he had to gather the few belongings he needed before the Gunmen took everything else to put into storage. A few suitcases full of clothes, some important photographs and papers, and that was it. Everything else was to disappear if Mulder was truly going to disappear as well.

He’s greeted by some huge eye rolls when he asks his friends to spare the fish tank but it means a lot to him. The idea of letting his fish die for his quest seems a little too on the nose for him to handle.

Besides, Scully wants to keep it. She tells him it will remind her of him. When Frohike overhears her say this, her wish is his command. She watches him fill the tank and delicately put in the mollies personally.

“Thank you, Melvin,” she says earnestly as he plops the last fish into the tank, now positioned in its new home in Scully’s place. She bounces William a bit, on the tail end of a half-hour long calming routine. He’s finally fallen asleep on her shoulder.

“I may not understand any of this, but you know whenever there’s anything you or the little guy need, we will be here to help in Mulder’s absence,” Frohike tells her.

“I appreciate that.”

The Gunmen supply Mulder with all the fake documents he needs to get the hell out of dodge, say their goodbyes, and are gone. He closes the door behind them and turns to Scully.

“I don’t like this,” he tells her. “I don’t think leaving you two alone is a good idea.”

She walks William into her bedroom over to his bassinet and places him inside. She comes back out and closes the door to a small crack.

“I don’t like this either, I don’t want you to leave. I can’t stand even thinking about it.” She approaches him and takes his hand. “But Mulder… I cannot bury you again.”

“I still say we all go. We head to Canada, or Tahiti, or something.”

He knows as he says it it’s ridiculous. He’s asked enough of Scully. He can’t make her uproot her whole life for him, and with a baby, no less. It wouldn’t go the way he pictures it anyway.

She shakes her head and looks at him, so sad. “We can’t do that, Mulder. A life on the run with an infant? Always looking over our shoulders? I don’t want to have to make this choice but I have to put William first. I have to.”

“Of course you do, I know that. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

He looks at her for a long time. He can’t help but think he deserves this fate, this loneliness. He didn’t fight against it when he should have, it took forever for them to get here and now, by his own doing, he’s being forced to give it all up.

He has to do what he needs to do to protect his family.

“A year. One year without contact.”

He repeats what they’d already discussed, although it sounds much less appealing with every passing second. “How am I gonna do that, Scully? What am I going to do? What are _you_ going to do?”

“If it keeps us all safe, a year will be nothing in the long run.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She looks down. “I’m trying, here, Mulder. I’m really trying not to make this impossible.”

He just looks at her, holding her hand. She tries to keep this all business. It’s what she does when things get hard. “You have my in case of emergency email, but try not to use it, okay?”

“It’s going to be hard knowing you’re an email away.”

“In case of emergency.”

He nods. “This entire fucking situation is an emergency, Scully.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You know which X Files to bring home? You have the list?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get the ones we need.”

“I hate asking you to do that.”

“I understand why you did. If there’s any truth to any of this, those files are in danger too. I want them protected as much as you do.”

All he can do is look at her. It’s all he wants to do, and now he can't do it anymore.

“I’ll help continue our work, Mulder. The X Files are in good hands with Monica, and John. And I’ll take care of our son until the danger has passed and you can come home.”

He grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on top of hers. Everything in him is telling him not to go, to stay here with her and fight.

But then he thinks of Samantha. His eight year old sister, abducted right in front of him, and the powerlessness he felt at that moment. The powerlessness he never stopped feeling for years, almost his entire life, until he was finally released from it only a year ago.

What if something happened to William? He can’t go through that again, he can’t put Scully through that. He’s already put her through so much.

He always told himself he’d rather her be happy without him than miserable with him. If staying could put himself or them in danger, how could anyone be anything but miserable? She might not be happy with him gone, but she would have William. And they would be safe, he can only hope.

He closes his eyes and just holds her tight. “I know you’re right. This is just so unfair. Why does this have to happen now? I feel like I can finally plant my feet on the ground and for the first time in my life I really want to.”

She smiles into his shoulder. Neither of them want to let go. “No matter what happens, it makes me happy to hear you say that, Mulder.”

“I love you.”

“It makes me happy to hear that too.”

His eyes shift to the bedroom door. “I have to say goodbye to the bullfrog.”

He releases her and walks over to Scully’s bedroom, opening the door slowly. Scully remains in the living room, giving them their moment.

He tiptoes inside and peers into the bassinet, little William asleep soundly, his perfect tiny face still and serene. Mulder watches him for a minute, seeing his tiny chest go up and down, up and down. He had no idea he could love anything so much. All those years he never even thought of being a father, never wanted such a thing.

He was so stupid. He had no fucking clue.

He reaches down and gently touches the downy head of his son softly, as not to wake him. The next time he sees this baby he probably won’t be a baby anymore and he can’t stop tears from welling in his eyes.

“Goodbye, kiddo. I’ll see you soon, okay?” His voice starts to catch in his throat so he says nothing more.

He wants to see William’s eyes, Scully’s eyes, one last time but he doesn’t want to put her through the forty minute nightmare of getting him back to sleep so he goes without. He turns from the bassinet and quietly leaves the room.

Scully is next to the couch and he can tell from her face that she was watching him and William through the door. He crosses over to her and she falls into his arms.

They stand in the middle of her living room for a few minutes, just holding each other. He doesn’t want to let her go because he knows the second he does, he’s going to have to leave. He may not see her for a year. He may not see her ever again. There’s no right way to leave her.

“I can’t, I can’t let you go,” he says. “Who am I anymore when I walk out that door? I don’t know who I am without you.”

They pull back from their embrace and she looks at him. The tears are actively streaming down his face now but he doesn’t care. He’s never been more miserable in his life and has no inclination to hide that fact. He knows once she’s seen his tears she won’t be able to hold back any longer and he is proven correct. She bursts into tears of her own.

“Mulder. Please, please just go before you make me change my mind,” she sobs.

He knows he’s dragging this out too long and every minute he doesn’t leave is possibly putting them all in more danger but he has to kiss her one last time, he has to, so he does. The crooks of her elbows go around his neck as she pulls herself up as tall as she can, and she holds her body flush against his. He tries to memorize every curve and his hands move down her back, pulling her close, drinking her in. He can feel his tears mixing with hers on their cheeks and everything about this is just so heartbreaking.

She finally pulls away first and holds onto his face while wiping his tears with her thumbs. He closes his eyes and pulls her forehead to his; he doesn’t want to have to look at her when he leaves.

But “Mulder, look at me,” she says, her voice beginning to break. He opens his eyes and looks into hers. He never denies her anything.

“We can get through this. We can get through anything. It’s you and me, always.”

He nods. “You and me, always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you back.”

He kisses her one last time, a quick one, and he’s reminded of the last time this happened, in the car at the airport. That time he didn’t come home.

Thoughts like this will keep him here longer, will keep her in danger, will keep their son in danger. So he turns and heads out the door, not looking back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Existence" written by Chris Carter.


	14. INFORMATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He wishes he had a choice. He wishes he knew a way out of this. He can’t think of a good plan because he can’t see an endgame that isn’t tragedy. It’s impossible for him to think about any kind of future right now; with Scully, with William. For him. For anyone. All he can think about is the present."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to address “Skinner told me,” my all time biggest pet peeve on the show, because god forbid they actually write a scene where Scully gets to tell Mulder the most important thing she’s ever had to tell him. Especially since I believe this particular moment had so much weight and affected their relationship down the road.
> 
> Also, Mulder still has a lot of garbage to make up for. Thank god for S11 Mulder, is all I'm saying.

  _ **INFORMATION**_

  **(The Truth)**

 

**MULDER**

 

All roads have led here.

In the end, all he’s left with is this dank, dark jail cell and the knowledge that no matter what he does, the world is going to end, and soon. He knows the timetable and the method. He knows the truth. And what’s worse, he believes it utterly and completely.

As he lies half naked on the cold pavement of the cell, he thinks of Scully, and baby William. He thinks of a future they will not get to have, a future she will be robbed of. Time they all will be robbed of.

They’ve already wasted so much time.

He hated having to act distant with her yesterday. He hopes she understood why he did what he did. He tries to focus on something good, like how incredible she’d looked; she’d let her hair grow out and he was reminded of how she looked the day he met her. But the length of her hair only brought to the painful forefront how long it’s been since they’ve actually laid eyes on each other. Every inch further proof of time passing, wasting away.

It’s been even longer than it had been while he was abducted and dead, and somehow this has been worse because he could feel the time passing, slowly, tediously.

More time spent alone.

He aches to see her again and it’s the first time he knows for sure he will very soon. He wishes it were under better circumstances but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s glad he got caught. He’s relieved he’s been forced to give himself up. He couldn’t take the solitude any longer. If it means facing the music, he will, even if he hates this particular tune. He wants to see his family.

_What are you thinking?_

_About my son. About his mother._

The guard is relentless. He knows they are trying to brainwash him into forgetting what he’s learned. He wishes they could. Now that he knows, he wishes he could un-know it. The irony of learning the truth he’s sought for so long and now wishing he hadn’t learned it at all isn’t lost on him.

His thoughts drift to Clyde Bruckman from all those years ago, and his ability to see the deaths of others. Bruckman couldn’t live with that knowledge and ended his own life. Can Mulder live with knowing exactly when and how every human being on the planet will die?

What will he tell Scully? Will she believe it too? She’s been through so much, he doesn’t want to take away any any more of her happiness. Maybe they’ll make it ten years without her having to know. Maybe he’s just kidding himself.

Will he even get out of his current predicament alive?

He knows the military is responsible for all of this. The secrets they hold are worth killing for, and taking him out wouldn’t be difficult. So why this ridiculous charade? He wonders why they’re bothering to put him through this, why they don’t just kill him. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long at all.

The government has used him to help them bury the truth before, and they’re doing it again. Spooky Fox Mulder, ranting and raving about apocalyptic alien colonizations would only help their cause, not harm it.

He won’t give them the satisfaction.

The doors to his cell slide open, and the asshole with the nightstick comes back in. He flings an orange jumpsuit at him. “Put that on, you have visitors.”

_Please… please let it be her._

He doesn’t know who he’s praying to, but he hopes the prayer is answered. A few minutes pass. And then:

“...Mulder?” Her voice is barely a whisper this time.

He turns around and notices the guard has left them alone, thank god. He does his best Hannibal Lecter.

“I smelled you coming, Clarice.”

Her face is priceless and he wishes he could bottle it but instead he decides to put her out of her misery and laughs.

She exhales, the relief palpable. “Dammit, Mulder, it’s not funny seeing you put on that act.”

“No, that is funny,” he explains. “What’s not funny is what they do to you in here when you don’t put on that act.”

He’s waited too long already, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that they’re in a jail cell, or that Skinner is standing right there, or even that the world is coming to an end. If anything, that knowledge is all Mulder needs to cross over to Scully and kiss her for all she’s worth. He feels her knees go weak as she grabs his head for support. He never wants to stop kissing her again, but eventually they have to. _Goddamn Skinner._ They shift to a hug, and he envelops her with his arms.

When they finally detach, he goes for Skinner. “C’mere, you big, bald, beautiful man.”

“The only thing you’re gonna be kissing is your sweet ass goodbye, with the trouble you’re in, Mulder,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that right around the fiftieth brainwashing session.”

He takes Scully’s hand, kisses it. Holds it close to his heart. The way she’s looking at him now is something he’s never felt worthy of, but it’s there just the same.

Soon Agents Doggett and Reyes show up and the whirlwind of Mulder’s farcical trial begins in earnest.

 

***

 

After they discuss his options, the cell clears out but Skinner remains.

“You know none of this really matters, right?” Mulder sighs. “This is only going to end one way.”

“How, Mulder? With you on death row? That’s not gonna happen, not on my watch. I’m not letting Scully go through that again.”

Mulder doesn’t want her to go through that again, either. But his options are pretty limited at the moment.

Skinner leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Mulder shrugs. “Make our work mean something, Skinner. Anything. Everything Scully and I have uncovered sits in the basement, none of it brought to light because no one will believe it. Maybe someone in that room will hear it.”

Skinner looks uncomfortable. “Why would they listen to me? They already think you’re a joke.”

Mulder sighs and rubs his temples. “Now you’re catching on.”

“Well, what’s their angle then? To discredit you? You’ve already done that for them, year after year. No offense,” he adds.

“None taken.”

“If they wanted to kill you, they’d just kill you. I still don’t understand why you’re standing here at all.”

“This is a perfect opportunity for them. They want me to help them bury their own secrets because they know I’m not going to out them.”

“Why? What do you know, Mulder?”

“Trust me, it’s not something I can put on the official record.”

“So what, you just plan to die with the truth? You’ll only be furthering their own agenda.”

“You don’t get it, Skinner. Nothing you or I can do matters. None of this matters. We hold none of the cards. All we can do is go down fighting.”

Skinner removes his glasses, wipes them on his shirt, puts them back on. “I can’t be a party to you allowing yourself to get put to death, Mulder. I won’t just do nothing.”

“Try my case, then, sir.”

“Maybe something, anything we’ve got would be enough to save your life. Right now that’s all I want to do. The rest of this government conspiracy crap is secondary. I owe it to you, and to Scully.”

Mulder closes his eyes, leans back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do about Scully. I know she won’t give up on me, even though that’s exactly what she should do.”

Skinner doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“I know all this seems really important right now. But don’t lose sight of the big picture, of your life. You’ve got an important choice to make, Mulder. Don’t make the wrong one. Trust me.”

He starts to head toward the cell door and Mulder takes that in. He wishes he had a choice. He wishes he knew a way out of this. He can’t think of a good plan because he can’t see an endgame that isn’t tragedy. It’s impossible for him to think about any kind of future right now; with Scully, with William. For him. For anyone. All he can think about is the present.

“Sir? Can you do me another favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Can you ask Scully to bring William?”

Skinner stops, is silent. Silent for a long time. Mulder doesn’t know why but the dread that lurches up inside him is very real and immediate.

“Sir….?”

“I think... you need to talk to Scully about that.”

He starts to panic. “No, Skinner, what happened?” He walks to Skinner and grabs the back of his jacket. “Tell me right now! Is it William? Did something happen to him?”

_Oh god, that baby. Scully’s whole world. If something happened to him…_

“What is it?!” The terror in Mulder’s voice is enough to get Skinner to turn around. “Tell me!”

Skinner can’t look him in the eye. He shakes his head. “William… is gone.”

Mulder’s heart sinks. His breath stops. Suddenly, everything they have been discussing seems utterly unimportant.

“William is... dead?”

“No, not dead,” Skinner quickly corrects. “But it felt like a death to Scully. Everything just… became too much, it was too dangerous for him. She gave him up anonymously for adoption.”

Mulder stares at Skinner. “When?”

“Couple months ago.”

Mulder’s legs give out and he sinks to the floor, his head in his hands. Everything they’ve gone through, how much Scully wanted that child, all of it gone. He left for nothing. He’s been separated from his family for no reason at all, and even though leaving was meant to protect them all, he failed.

She must have felt so desperate, so alone to make such a decision. Why did he ever leave? The dangers they feared seem so insignificant now.

He didn’t think things could get any worse. He’s never been more wrong in his life.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this.” Mulder can’t look at him. He just wants Skinner to leave before he breaks down completely. “I’m… I’m going to leave you alone, okay? Scully will be back tomorrow. You should talk then.”

Skinner quietly exits the cell.

After the door closes, Mulder bursts into tears. His body is so wracked with uncontrollable sobs he falls to his side and pulls his knees to his chest. He grieves for William, but his grief soon turns to Scully. He loved their child, of course, but the entire time he’s been gone he felt his love for William through his love for her. Every day that passed, every moment he missed, every milestone she must have witnessed, he imagined it through her eyes.

He thinks of her broken heart, _again_ , and feels completely numb.

He doesn’t sleep that night, tormented by desperate cries and fits of wakefulness. He thinks of a night back in Bellefleur, Oregon, where he held Scully in comfort and security and regrets all the choices he subsequently made.

 

***

 

She comes to him soon, as he knew she would. Her hand softly touches his shoulder and he wakes.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He wonders how many more times he’ll get to hear her say that. It can’t be many. He slowly gets up, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Her face comes into focus and it gives him hope, if only for a moment.

“I need you to talk to me, confide in me, or we’ll lose.”

He doesn’t want to talk about any of this. “We can’t win, Scully. We can only hope to go down fighting.”

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes glistening. “Mulder, I’m so scared I’ve just got you back and now I’m going to lose you again.”

“I know what I’m doing.” All he can say is something he knows she won’t accept or appreciate. His eyes are begging her to tell him what he already knows.

“Well, whatever you’re doing… you have no idea how much has already been lost… what I’ve had to do.”

She looks so devastated, so defeated, he can’t make her say the words.

“I do know. Skinner told me.”

She doesn’t look terribly surprised that Skinner told him something she really should have. Maybe she’s relieved that she doesn’t have to see him react. Maybe he’s also relieved she didn’t have to see it. She slowly looks up at him, ashamed.

“Our son, Mulder...” she says, breaking down. It’s as if she hasn’t been able to talk to anyone properly about this decision and maybe she hasn’t. She falls into him, nothing else to do, and the tears come. “I gave him up.”

Mulder holds her, shellshocked. This is an eventuality he never even considered and now here they are. He’s not angry, or disappointed. He’s just overwhelmingly numb about the whole thing.

It feels oddly inevitable that this happened to them. How could it ever have gone differently? Why can’t anything good ever stay that way for them?

“I’m so afraid you could never forgive me,” she whispers into his ear as she cries.  

He can’t bear how much responsibility she’s accepting for this turn of events. She made the decision, yes, but if it weren’t for him and the cloud of trouble surrounding him wherever he goes none of this would have happened. Yet again, he feels responsible for her unhappiness and he can’t believe they are back here once again.

“I know you had no choice,” he says. It’s the only thing he can think of to say. He doesn’t know the particulars but he doesn’t have to; he knows Scully had no choice. William meant everything to her, and even though he was only with them for a couple short days, seeing her that happy was enough for Mulder to understand her utter desolation.

This misery is too much to take. All he wants to do is make her feel better and he doesn’t think he can even do that for her.

“I just missed you both so much.”

She hugs him tighter. “God, where have you been? Where have you been hiding?”

“In New Mexico.”

“Doing what?”

His face is buried in her shoulder. “Looking for the truth,” he mumbles. He sounds so dejected but is still trying to make her laugh, and she does. It’s a tiny thing, but it’s something to hold onto in this dark moment.

She pulls away and they look at each other tenderly. He can’t believe how much time they wasted not looking at each other this way, and now the world is ending and everything is complete shit. The only good, pure thing is her face, so he takes it in as long as he possibly can.

“You found something, didn’t you? What did you find?” Scully reverts back into investigative mode, and as much as he wants to tell her something, give her anything she could possibly ask of him, he can’t.

He’s probably going to be put to death. Their child is gone forever. He can’t give her more bad news.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You found something in that facility. That’s what you were doing, right? Mulder, what did you find out there?”

“Scully, I can’t tell you.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” She looks so confused and hurt, he doesn’t want to make her feel that way but if it’s between that and decimating her completely he has to take the former.

“You’ve got to trust me, Scully. I know things it’s better you don’t.”

She looks at him sadly. “I trust you, Mulder. I’ll always trust you. But look around. I don’t know what could possibly be worse than where we already are.”

“I’m trying to protect you the only way I know how.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t need you to do that, Mulder. It’s _me._ It’s you and me, together. Always. Remember? I want to know what you know.”

“I’m sorry, Scully.” He shakes his head. “I can’t. You are the only person left in the world that I love. I’m never going to do or say anything I know will cause you pain. I just can’t. I won’t. I need you to hear me.”

She looks into his eyes. “I do hear you. But what you’re saying right now is causing me pain, too.”

He has two choices and they’re both impossible. He chooses the one that won’t mean telling her the world is ending and none of this even matters. All he can do is shake his head.

She takes his face in her hands and presses her lips to his, not happy with his decision but accepting it. He covers her hands with his own. When they part again, he wipes a tear from her eye with his thumb.

“I really like your hair.”

She smiles, looks down. “Thanks.”

It seems so trivial, so trite to compliment her hair at a time like this, that he knows how significant the gesture actually is. She kisses him one more time, then takes his hand.

“Try to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She slowly stands up, and he doesn’t release her hand until she’s started walking away. She lets his hand drop, and the cell door slides open, then closed.

He’s never felt more hopeless in his life. He doesn’t have a plan anymore. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. There is no endgame.

If he dies with the truth, maybe she can live with hope.

  
  
  
  
  
  
**SCULLY**

 

“I’d rather die.”

_I’d rather die._

Words have always been a powerful tool for them. In their work, connecting their minds to each other in a private language, almost a secret shorthand they’d refined. So many words had been uttered between them over the years they almost didn’t need them anymore. One look could floor her in any given circumstance. When words failed them, they’d find a way back to each other. They always have.

But these words have torn her apart.

How could he have said that, to her? How could he not know how those words would make her feel?

Maybe he did know. Maybe he’s given up, on everything. Can she really blame him? His life’s work is on trial, he’s probably getting put to death, and she gave up his only chance at fatherhood. She’s the only thing left he has to live for, and maybe she’s not enough for him.

Maybe she will never be enough for him.

She’s done everything she could to bring him back to her, to keep him alive, and it’s as if he doesn’t even care. He doesn't even want to try. Being alive isn’t worth it to him; not without his quest.

She’s so tired of the quest. All she can think of now are the days and nights she spent missing him, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Watching William get older every day without him. Cursing this fucking quest for taking him away from her, yet again.

She’s always respected the work, always understood the magnitude of the forces against them. She’s always understood the unique position they’ve been in all these years. More than anything, she’s always understood her devotion to him, and she’s never questioned his devotion to her.

What she doesn’t understand, what she may never understand, is this obsession; what it does to him. It takes him far away from her, somewhere she can’t go, somewhere he will not take her. It takes him to a place where he tells her to her face he’d rather die.

He’s never lied to her about who he is, ever. She should have seen something like this coming. The idea he would choose to die for his quest rather than live for her is something she hasn’t had to think about before. She tells herself _this isn’t Mulder, this part isn’t him. This is the obsession talking._ She hates the obsession now.

Back when they first met it was something about Mulder that drew her to him, something she admired. She was so young then, so eager.

She was so stupid.

After so much sacrifice, so much loss, all she’s been left with is him. All he has is her. What she needs is to be enough for him, and it seems that he’s telling her she isn’t.

_I’d rather die._

It breaks her heart. All she needs is him, but he needs more.

_You say this is greater than us and maybe it is. But this is us fighting this fight, Mulder, not you. It’s you and me. That’s what I’m fighting for, Mulder. You and me._

The way their relationship progressed has been so unusual, she has no map, no compass to tell her how they should be feeling, and how they should be sharing their pain. And she doesn’t know what to think about how he feels about William. Ever since she made the decision it has weighed on her heart in a way she could never explain to anyone, not even Mulder. The guilt she feels for making Mulder a father and tearing it away from him is only compounded by her own pain and loss. He said what he needed to say, and she could tell he didn’t want her to hurt, but she can’t quite shake the feeling there are things left unsaid between them. It’s much too painful right now to think about.

If he ever gets out of this cell, what will happen next? She will go with him, because she will always go with him. She doesn’t doubt his love for her. She doesn’t think she ever could. But she often wonders when this will all be over; when they can escape this darkness that follows them once and for all. When they can finally be free.

Does he even want to be free?

Maybe falling in love with her threw a wrench into his plans. She may be the hindrance she’s always feared she was after all, just in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Will she ever really know for sure?

Maybe it would have been better if they’d never met. She wonders for the first time in a long time what her life would be like without him, without all of this. She tries, she really tries to picture it.

She can’t. She can’t because she knows the truth: she loves him more than that life. She loves him more than anything in the world.

This is her truth. She hopes it will be enough to set them free.

 

***

 

The phone rings, and rings, and rings.

_Please answer, Mom. Please._

Scully stands outdoors in the cold, Gibson Praise asleep inside the car. It’s so late, or rather so early, she hopes her mother will answer the phone. They haven’t spoken since she gave William up for adoption. Scully expected the distance to last for some time, and she felt she deserved it. The pain William’s sudden disappearance caused in her mother’s life wasn’t so easily healed.

But she needs to speak to her, now. Or she may never again.

“...Hello?”

“Mom?” Scully’s voice is soft, tentative. “Please don’t hang up, please.”

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. But she doesn’t hang up.

“You don’t have to talk, Mom, and I completely understand if you don’t want to. But I need you to listen, please. This is very important.”

The silence continues. Taking this as a sign of acquiescence, Scully continues.

“I’m… going to be out of touch for awhile, probably a long time. I don’t know how long. Mulder is in trouble. I mean… we both are. So I just need you to know we’re going to have to disappear for awhile.”

She stops for a moment, catches her breath. Even with everything she and Mulder have been through, this is a phone call she never expected to make.

“Are you still there?”

She hears a soft sob, and knows she’s there.

Scully breaks down. “I’m so sorry, Mom… I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you know that. I’d never want to do anything to hurt you, and when I gave up William I did that. And I’ll never stop being sorry for how that hurt you. But you have to understand it hurt me too, more than I can possibly explain.”

After a brief silence, Maggie speaks. _“Is Fox all right?”_

Scully sniffles, but a smile crosses her face at last. “He’s okay, we both are. It’s just… it’s complicated. Our lives are in danger. The less you know, the better. I need you to trust me.”

_“Is there anything I can do?”_

“They’ll be asking you if I’ve contacted you. Just tell them we haven’t spoken for weeks, that shouldn’t be too hard to do… considering.”

For a moment she hears nothing on the other end.

“Mom? Are you there?”

_“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how dangerous this job has become for you, Dana. And I know why you did what you did. You never asked for any of this. But it’s the challenge that God has chosen to give to you both. And I’m relieved that you at least have each other. Please take care of yourselves, sweetheart. And call me when you can. Send my love to Fox.”_

Scully waits.

_“I love you, Dana.”_

Scully grips the phone with both hands and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s just now coming to terms with everything she’s choosing to give up for Mulder.

“I love you too, Mom.”

As she ends the call, she stares at the phone in her hand. She won’t be calling her mother again for a long, long time. She doesn’t know when she will get used to that idea. She removes the SIM card and crushes it with her foot, then throws the cell phone over the guardrail.

Just a few minutes later, another car pulls up and he gets out. In this moment she knows it’s the end of the road. She’s making a choice, to give up everything in her life to be with him.

She knows in her heart she would make this choice every single time.

 

 

***

 

 

 

  
  
The rain pounds on the windows outside the motel room. It feels chaotic, apocalyptic.

Appropriate.

They lay in bed, holding each other. Their clothes are scattered around them on the floor. They’d both been exhausted, physically spent by the day’s events, but ultimately they were unable to hold back any longer. It had been too long. The aliens may be coming, but they’re both only human, after all.

She knew she’d made the right decision to stay with him; for her there wasn’t really an alternative. The words he’d said in that jail cell hurt, but now she knows why he’d said them. She should have known he was only trying to protect her, as usual. She should have trusted him, like he’d asked. She doesn’t like that she doubted him, but she also doesn’t like how he’d made her feel: powerless, alone. She can’t stand feeling that way, not with him. She hopes he won’t do it again.

_Maybe there’s hope._

She’s sure of one thing… she hopes this will all be over soon. She wants nothing more than to slow down, to stop. To get out of the damn car like she told him years ago. She can only hope he wants to do the same.

At least right now they are calm, just for now. Her eyes glance to the window and the rain against the glass reminds her of another night, an important step they’d taken that feels much longer ago than it actually was.

“What are we going to do, Mulder?” she asks him quietly.

“Can we just stay right here? I think I could live with that.” He’s flat on his back, her head resting on his chest.

“The good news is, right now I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“That _is_ good news. Finally.”

They lay quietly and Scully listens to his heart beating.

“Scully, I hope you know that I understand how hard it must have been for you to make this choice. To stay with me. I know what you’re giving up.”

She closes her eyes, holds him tighter. “You don’t know, Mulder. If you did, you’d know it wasn’t a difficult choice for me to make at all.”

He kisses the top of her head. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

She knows he’s joking but she reassures him all the same. “Don’t say that. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“I’m not joking, Scully. You probably think I am but I’m not.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“I’m serious.” He lets the sentiment hang in the air for a moment. “I mean it. I love you more than I think I could ever adequately express.”

“You do a pretty good job trying,” she replies playfully.

“I’ll try again tomorrow. And then again. And then again. It’s not like we have anything else to do.”

“I’ve never been so excited to be so bored.”

The rain patters on the windows. She lazily trails her fingers along his chest. “But…really, what are we going to do?”

“What, you mean about the end of the world as we know it?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know. We live our lives, I guess?”

A thought occurs to her that she hasn’t yet articulated to him. “Back during my cancer I thought about this a lot. The idea of knowing you have a shelf life is scary, but in a way there’s some comfort to be taken.” She folds her arms across his chest and rests her chin to better face him. “Knowing your time is so limited makes you think about things differently. Makes you appreciate what you have more.”

“I get that, Scully. Not quite in the same way you could, but I get that.” He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You do get it in the same way, though. When you thought you were dying, and you never told me. It’s the same thing. 2012 might be the end of the world, but knowing I would lose you would have been the end of my world.”

He’s quiet. She’s not trying to make him feel bad, she doesn’t want him to think she is.

“I was afraid of dying,” she continues, “but I was more afraid of the things I wouldn’t get to do before I did. The regret I had in those moments, that I wasn’t strong enough to even tell you how much you meant to me.”

“But you did. You told me. You were always telling me, Scully. I just couldn’t see it. I refused to see it.”

“And then I got better.”

“And I still didn’t see it.”

She shuts her eyes thoughtfully. “No, you didn’t. But I should have made you see. I should have taken my experience to mean something. Instead I continued to be afraid.”

“I’m afraid now, Scully. I’m afraid the world may actually be headed straight to hell and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“Maybe we can. Even when all hope seemed lost for me, you never gave up. Because of that, you saved my life. Like you said… maybe there’s hope, Mulder.”

He wraps his arms around her and she shifts her body to lay on his. Even though they have so little, they have each other and right now it feels like enough.

She leans down and kisses him deeply. It doesn’t feel possible to be happy knowing everything they’ve lost but she is. In this decidedly abnormal scenario, it’s the most normal she’s felt; the two of them against the world. It always comes back to the two of them, no matter what.

_You and me, always._

“Maybe we don’t think about that right now. At least for right now,” he says softly.

She tucks her head underneath his neck and enjoys the warmth of his body underneath hers.

“Okay. How about for a long right now?”

“As long as you want, Scully. Promise.”

He’s slowly running his fingers through her hair, staring at the ceiling. They are quiet for a couple minutes.

“I’m sorry about William,” he suddenly says. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

She bites her lip. This isn’t something she wants to talk about right now. It’s just too hard. The name is painful to even hear. She just holds him and remains silent. He seems to take her cue, and stops talking, dragging his fingers along her back.

“I love you, Mulder. Thanks for not dying today.”

“You’re welcome, Scully. I know this isn’t the life you pictured. I’m sorry I can’t give you that.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that. I always assumed we’d end up busting you out of prison and going on the lam.”

He chuckles. “Me too, actually.”

“This part I did picture, though. You and me, just like this.”

“Well, I’m glad I came through in some way.”

“You always come through. For me, you do.”

As the rain continues to fall outside, she thinks again of their first night together, when everything changed. When they made a decision to move forward without fear, and take a chance.

They’re doing the same now, choosing to live, to fight another day. Of all the ways she’d imagined her life, and even with all the concerns she has about the future, she knows what matters is that they are in this together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "The Truth" written by Chris Carter.


	15. CONJUGATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s not that she doesn’t believe him. She knows he loves her, as much as he possibly can, in all the ways he’s ever shown her. She believes he does want to make her happy and will do everything in his power to achieve that.
> 
> What she doesn’t believe is that she could ever be enough for him. That she will ultimately fail him in some way, and that eventually, after everything, he will choose his endless quest over her."

_**CONJUGATION** _

  **(post IWTB)**

  
  
**SCULLY**

 

For a while, everything is very, very good. The FBI has cleared Mulder of all the bogus charges, the tigers on their tail have retreated. Scully can hardly believe such a weight has been lifted off their shoulders.

No more running. No more hiding. They are free.

The house they live in is not much to look at, but it’s exactly the kind of place Mulder had talked about all those years ago during that awful case in Home, Pennsylvania.

_My work demands that I live in a big city, but if I had to settle down, build a home...it’d be a place like this._

How amazing that after all these years, he’s settled down with her here, now. It isn’t far from where they used to live, but it feels remote in a good way.

The house is simple, sturdy, and unremarkable, with a weathered roof and a wrap around porch that Scully has to admit had entered her mind when she pictured where they would live. It’s been a comfort to them both. Although well off the beaten path it’s a place they can rest their souls, a real home. An anchor in the midst of what had been their storm.

The property extends several acres and the privacy it affords has had ample benefits for their situation the past several years. After months on the run they’d finally found a way out for Scully; the FBI was no longer interested in pursuing her, and as long as she claimed ignorance of the whereabouts of her erstwhile partner they’d leave her alone.

But she did know his whereabouts, and she had a sneaking suspicion many of her ex-fellow agents knew that. So she toed the party line, kept her head down, found herself a job at a nearby Catholic hospital and lived the life of a single woman at work, knowing Mulder would be waiting for her at home at the end of every day.

They’d lived this way for years, and for the most part they shared real happiness, whenever they were together. After working so long in such a high-intensity occupation, they’d had to readjust to a life that was its complete opposite. Scully had welcomed this change, and Mulder had as well, to her great surprise and pleasure. She enjoyed being a doctor again and he seemed to genuinely appreciate the rest. But year after year, he found himself alone for much of his time, forced to remain hidden, forced to stay underground. As a result he rarely left their house, and they’d prepared for scenarios in which the government might find him. There were crawlspaces in the floor, and they’d devised intricate drills in case their home was invaded.

She hadn’t been sure what this new life would be like for him. He had never been an extremely social person, but he abhorred idleness. And time takes its toll on anyone living in such isolation.

“I’m happy as a clam,” he will often say, whenever she asks him how he’s doing, and she believes him, for the most part. She has to. He will ease up next to her, wrap an arm around her torso and kiss her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

And when they lay together at night in their own bed in their own bedroom in their own house and he presses his body to hers, she still can’t believe how lucky she is to have this; to have him, all to herself in this way. Now that they no longer have to hide who they are, or what they are, she can finally feel peace, as much as she possibly can. And she truly hopes, she wants to believe, he can as well.

It isn’t perfect, but it’s the happiest she’s been in years.

“Walk with me, Scully,” he says one afternoon as they sit together on their porch.

It’s been a few weeks since he finished his freelance case with the Bureau, and Scully had saved the life of a young patient when she’d feared the worst. It feels like a hopeful time, a happy time. The winter chill has worn its way into spring at last, just like in their own little world. All these years they’ve been in hiding, springtime has been such a relief for her. It felt like a new start, a turning point, and every year it gave her hope.

She smiles at him, takes his hand, and as they walk down the steps they are just like any other couple. They cross their yard, hand in hand, listening to the birds and feeling the warm sunlight on their faces. She sees a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel, finally.

_As far away from the darkness as we can get._

“Are you happy, Scully?” The question takes her off guard.

“Of course I am.” She squeezes his hand. “Where’d that come from?”

He shrugs. “Just been thinking about things since I finished that Bureau case. Our lives have been so different. It’s not easy to slow down like this after so many years of doing what we did. Especially after getting pulled back in like that. It was weird, it was like I’d never left.”

“I understand.” She’s not sure where he’s going with this. “Are you saying you… miss the FBI? Miss the X Files?”

He walks a few paces. “Yes. Sometimes I really do.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to this, so she doesn’t.

He continues. “But I also realized what I miss about it more than anything is you and me, together. Doing our thing. I didn’t have that this time around, and I could feel it. It wasn’t the same without you by my side. We were good, Scully. We were great together.”

“I think we still are, Mulder.”

“I just realized the other day, you and I have now been a couple for longer than we weren’t.”

She does some mental math. “You’re right. Wow, you’re right.” She smiles up at him. “See, those long hours have been put to good use.”

He grins, then stops and faces her. He takes both her hands in his.

“Marry me, Scully.”

It takes her by surprise as always, but she rolls her eyes and squeezes his hands. He’s asked her a dozen times and she always says no. Not because she doesn’t love him, of course. The whole thing just seems so… not them. They’ve done it all already, and most of it backwards. Getting married at this point just seems silly for some reason.

“Mulder, do you even want to get married? It just doesn’t seem like you.”

“I can see why you’d think that, Scully, but the past few years have grown on me. I’ve never really known... _normal_ before. Slowing down hasn’t been easy but I’m starting to feel its effects and it feels pretty good.”

She thinks about this for a minute.

“I really love you, you know,” she says, and squints up at him. He tilts his head down to look at her. It’s something he has to do more often lately, as her hospital job makes wearing high heels a thing of the past.

“And I think you’re the bee’s knees. Isn’t this what normal people do? When they love each other? Get married?”

She sighs, looking down. “We aren’t normal, Mulder, as much as I’d like us to be.”

“But maybe we can start trying to be. We’re free now. We can do whatever we want. We can be whatever we want.”

He tilts her chin up to look at him. “I know it’s your choice to be with me, Scully, and I’ll never stop loving you for that. But it’s not lost on me that you’re in this position because you threw your lot in with me in the first place.”

She doesn’t know what to say to this, so she just hugs him tight, her cheek resting on his chest.

“Is getting married something you want? I mean… say we’d never met. And you’d lived your ‘normal’ life. Would you have said yes to some other guy if he asked you? Is this just a _me_ thing?”

She feels torn. He’s right, she would have said yes to some other guy in some other lifetime. But marriage and Mulder just doesn’t compute to her. She appreciates the gesture, but can she marry him knowing he’s just doing it for her?

Her hesitancy is making this less of a Mulder thing and more of a _them_ thing. She’s not sure how she feels about that.

“I don’t know,” is all she can really think of to say.

“I want to give you everything you want, Scully. I just need you to tell me what that is.”

“But I know it’s not really what you want, Mulder. How can I say yes to something when I know you’re just asking to make me happy?”

“If it makes you happy, then it _is_ what I want. Making you happy is all I’ll ever want.”

Scully’s eyes darken and she pulls back to look up at him. “I don’t believe that. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

He takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. It’s as if he feels the weight of it, above them. A siren song that he may never stop hearing. And that date… that cursed, fateful date in December 2012 when the world is supposed to end.

“I know there’s some part of me that will always be searching for something. But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you and it certainly doesn’t change the fact that I want to make you happy.”

It’s not that she doesn’t believe him. She knows he loves her, as much as he possibly can, in all the ways he’s ever shown her. She believes he does want to make her happy and will do everything in his power to achieve that.

What she doesn’t believe is that she could ever be enough for him. That she will ultimately fail him in some way, and that eventually, after everything, he will choose his endless quest over her.

This is her greatest fear.

She thinks back to a moment not too long ago in a locker room, when he’d seemed to make that decision with barely a thought. _Good luck,_ he’d said to her, after she’d threatened not to come home. It had been devastating. Not to mention all that “I’d rather die” business. She shudders, thinking about that. It still bothers her.

It’s easy for him to say these hopeful things in moments like this when he’s not actively being pulled back into the darkness. She often worries about what’s next. And adding the element of marriage to their relationship just seems unnecessary, so insignificant to what they actually are and what they mean to each other. He’s her partner, her best friend, her equal, and her everything else.

Could she think of him as a husband? She loves him like a husband, but the term doesn’t really fit him, doesn’t fit everything he is to her. Can he ever actually fill that particular role to her after all they’ve been through together? Does she even want to be his wife?

She curses the absurdity of these thoughts. After wanting something normal for so long, here he is offering it to her and she’s shutting him down.

They have begun walking again. She realizes it’s been awhile since she’s said anything.

“You know, this isn’t just a gesture, Scully. This means something to me. I love you too much to let that go unsaid.”

She smiles, squeezes his hand. Maybe he does mean it after all.

“Maybe.”

He smiles. “I get a ‘maybe?’ Well, that’s progress. I’ll take it.”

“I do love that you keep trying. That makes me happy, Mulder.”

“Noted.”

They’ve come full circle and are back in front of their house. Holding hands, they go inside and Mulder leaves the screen door open to let in the spring air.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

 

It’s their very first real vacation together. Not including the countless crappy motel rooms they’ve checked into over the years, of course. After six years on the run they finally have the opportunity to travel without fear of being discovered. This is a real vacation and he’s excited to be on it with her.

The white sand surrounds them, the sky is deep and blue, a couple towels underneath them and a large umbrella above. The hotel where they’re staying has a semi-private beach cove adjoining their room, and aside from a few other hotel residents and a bar several yards down the way, they’re enjoying a modicum of privacy.

The world may be ending in four years but they are here now, and they have each other. They are, quite literally, as far away from the darkness as they could possibly get. He knows it’s exactly where she wants to be. He knows now is the time.

“Hey Scully.”

She’s been lying on her stomach quietly on her towel for the past hour, and he’s been watching her. Gazing at her, one of his favorite pastimes. Studying every curve, every freckle, it all looks so different under the tropical sunlight. He can’t recall a time where they have both been anywhere so vibrant together.

“Mmm?” She sounds half asleep, a margarita buried halfway in the sand completely melted by now. He knows she’s in heaven.

“I want to ask you something.”

He sees one eyebrow go up behind her sunglasses. She slowly pushes them up to her forehead, skeptical as ever. “Yeah?”

He knows she’s expecting him to do it, the same way he always does, casually or with a joke. He does something she’s not expecting. He is, after all, a dark wizard.

He leans over slowly and kisses her, a soft kiss but one with purpose and intent. He props himself up on his elbow, face close to hers.

“I know I’ve kept you in the darkness for a long time, Scully, longer than you deserve. We’ve been through some terrible things together. And because of that I can’t give you the life you always wanted. I’ll always be sorry about that.”

She looks at him, really looks at him. The eyebrow settles and she’s truly listening.

“But I also know that you’ve always wanted to be there with me, no matter what. And knowing that makes me love you more than I could ever express.”

He reaches out and touches her cheek. She couldn’t possibly look any more beautiful than she does right here, in the sunlight, on this beach.

“Maybe you won’t believe me when I tell you you’re more important to me than anything else in my life. Maybe you think finding the truth is more important to me. And I don’t say this lightly, but this time, Scully, I know you’re wrong. _You_ are my truth. And if you let me, I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

She stares at him for a minute, taking it in. It’s definitely the most he’s ever declared of himself in their entire relationship and she has taken notice.

“I’m not done. Come here.” He helps her up to her feet until they are both standing. She seems a bit self-conscious but lets him. He takes that as a good sign.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” he begins as he slowly drops to one knee, dragging his fingers down her leg along the sand speckled skin. She’s blushing, but smiling, and a few people around on the beach take notice, pointing and smiling.

“My partner, my best friend, my red-headed little-legged goddess, I promise I’ll always let you drive, if you promise to make me the happiest I’ve ever been. Will you marry me?”

She is stunned for a moment, but then smiles again. He’s pleased to see she’s thoroughly impressed.

“Wow, Mulder.”

Somehow he knows he’s done it this time. Her eyes narrow and she pulls him up to his feet. She puts her hands on his chest and looks up into his eyes. In her bare feet it’s an even longer way up.

“Okay,” she smiles.

He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d actually wanted her to say yes, and his heart soars. She raises onto her tiptoes to kiss him and promptly sinks back into the sand, so he scoops her up and lifts her to him, helping her out. She wraps her legs around him and he’s vaguely aware of some scattered applause from the nearby beachgoers as they kiss. Newly engaged.

Eventually he sets her down and grins at her. “How was that for normal?”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if it were any less than perfect,” she smirks.

“Wait- does this mean I can’t call you Scully anymore?”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

He laughs and takes her hand, pulls her towards the beach bar. “Let’s go get a celebratory cocktail.”

She threads her fingers with his and leans against him as they walk. “Sounds good. Then I want to rent one of those boats I saw down by the beach.”

“Whatever you want.”

She smiles. “You row.”

 

***

 

 

_“For better or for worse._

_As long as we both shall live.”_

 

These are the only words Fox Mulder and Dana Scully speak to each other at their short and sweet nuptials. It’s not like them to be traditional, but they both agree the brevity is apropos, very symbolic of what they mean to each other, and it’s all they need. They’ll have good times, they’ll have bad times, but all they need is to be alive and together. Words can’t quite contain everything they are.

They don’t exchange rings. She decided they were too defining and superfluous. Jewelry can’t quite contain everything they are, either.

No witness is required in the District of Columbia but Margaret Scully is there as their only guest.

When it’s over, they walk out of the Carl Moultrie courthouse hand in hand, him in a charcoal suit, white shirt, and blue striped tie, what she’d picked for him, and her in a navy blue shift, what he’d picked for her. Maggie looks at them with tears in her eyes.

“I’m so happy for you two,” she says, barely containing her emotion. “You’ve always felt like family, Fox. I’m so happy this finally happened.”

“You know, Mrs. Scully, I asked her at least ten times. She always said no.” He chuckles and tugs on his new wife’s hand.

“Dana!” Maggie looks at her, personally offended, and Mulder laughs in response.

“Oh relax, mom,” Scully rolls her eyes. “As if it would have changed a thing.”

“Well,” Maggie responds. “I suppose if you hadn’t waited, I couldn’t have been here to see it. God has a plan for everything, I suppose.” She smiles.

“Sometimes nothing happens for a reason,” Mulder says, glancing over to Scully. She squeezes his hand.

“You two were made for each other, I just know it,” Maggie says.  “I’m very happy for you both today.”

They all say their goodbyes and Mulder and Scully decide to go for a stroll in the warm spring air. The National Mall is only a couple blocks from the courthouse so they head in that direction.

 “I can’t believe we’re married,” he says.

She looks up at him, smiles. “Me neither. It’s so… boring.”

He lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses it. “Nothing with you could ever be boring.”

“Honestly, Mulder, I’m just excited to be out in the open with you like this. It’s been so many years and it feels like the first time we can really just be ourselves, in front of the world.”

As emphasis, she stops and pulls him in for a kiss. The space around them feels vast, endless, full of people. Business people, families with children, elderly couples, all swarming around them with no earthly idea who they are and how much they’ve been through. Just another normal, boring couple.

He pulls away and looks at her, his hand tucking a piece of her long hair behind her ear. “I can’t really believe we ended up here, after everything. I feel like I don’t deserve any of it.”

“Why do you say that?”

He shakes his head. He shouldn’t have said it. This is a happy day, a blissful day. He doesn’t want to ruin it with heavy shit. He shifts gears.

“Nothing. You’re a catch, Scully. How did I get so lucky?”

She tugs at his hand, starts walking again. “Oh, brother.”

“So, really, can I call you Mulder now? It’ll be hilarious. Just yelling ‘Mulder’ at each other all day long.”

“No, you cannot.”

He laughs. “Fine. Only when I’m very annoyed with you because you won’t give up on some crazy theory and aren’t listening to anything I say. Deal?”

“Sure,” she smiles.

They walk for a couple minutes, just enjoying the day, happier than he could ever have thought possible.

“Agent Scully? Agent Mulder?”

The familiar voice startles him and he turns, looking for its source. A friendly figure strides into view, smiling from ear to ear.

“I thought it was you! Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!”

Agent John Doggett.

“Agent Doggett!” Scully exclaims. Mulder has to keep his flight response from acting up, so used to living underground, any contact with anyone from the Bureau had been forbidden. It’s been so long since he’s been called “Agent” anything, he feels removed from himself.

_Who is this ‘Agent Mulder’ person?_

He has a strange out of body moment where he imagines the way he used to be. The way he no longer can be. He hasn’t felt this uncomfortable in years.

Scully throws her arms around Doggett, happy to see her former partner. “Wow, John, it’s been a long time.”

“It sure has,” Doggett agrees, as she pulls away. “Mulder.” He extends his hand, Mulder shakes it.

“Good to see you, Agent Doggett.”

He looks at them both in their wedding attire, taking it in. “So, you two…?” He trails off, but they both know what he means. Scully takes Mulder’s hand again and looks up at him.

Mulder brings her hand up to his chest possessively. “You actually caught us on our wedding day.”

A surge of pride he hasn’t yet been able to express rises within him. To stand next to this amazing woman out in the public for everyone to see and know she’s his. All those years together, side by side, everybody wondering who exactly they were to each other. No one has to wonder anymore. It’s yet another perk he hadn’t anticipated from this whole “normal” thing and he likes it, a lot.

“Congrats! Well, it took long enough, huh?” He chuckles.

Scully and Mulder share a look, eyebrows raised, and smile. “It sure did. But here we are,” Scully says.

“Here we are.” Doggett shakes his head. “Last time I saw you two you were still running after Mulder’s holy grail. You ever finally track it down?”

Scully takes a deep breath.

“Nope,” Mulder says tightly.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, right? It’s always going to be something, I guess. You’ll always have something to go chasing after. You’re a lucky man to have this one by your side, Mulder,” he says, gesturing to Scully.

“Yeah, I am,” he agrees. She squeezes his hand.

They all stand there looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

“We’re doing good, John,” Scully says pointedly. “Life is moving on, with or without the holy grail.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You both deserve a little rest, huh?”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Scully breathes. Mulder gets the sense she hadn’t really meant to say it out loud. She must discern his discomfort because she gives his hand another squeeze.

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy the day. As a married couple. Congrats again, huh? You both look great. Hopefully I’ll see you around.”

“Good to see you, John.” Scully nods at him and takes Mulder’s arm with her other hand. Doggett nods, smiles and walks away. And with that, another thread from a past life weaves its way in and out of their existence.

The two of them walk in silence for a couple minutes, Scully holding his hand tightly. He can sense there’s something she wants to say but will not. He wants to ask her but does not.

Doggett’s jab wasn’t said in malice, he knows that. But it stung all the same. He’s been so long removed from his previous identity it’s strange to be associated with it once again. Maybe no matter what he does, this is how he will be remembered? That guy who spent his life chasing aliens and seeking the truth, while his one true love hung around year after year, waiting patiently for him to stop?

But stop what? He doesn’t even know. Stop being himself? He knows that’s not what Scully wants. He knows she fell in love with that Mulder all those years ago. It would be unfair for her to expect him to change. He’s told her this before.

Suddenly he realizes that maybe that’s the problem, maybe that’s been the problem the past few years: he _has_ changed. He’s been idle, restless. Without the FBI he's had very little to do other than occupy his thoughts with things he finds interesting. His work had been his entire life for so long, and now he’s focused on making Scully his entire life. It’s been a pleasant readjustment, but a readjustment nonetheless.

If what he knows about the alien colonization is the truth, they have precious little time to spend with each other. And if it turns out not to be true? Well, he oddly feels like that outcome might be worse. The implications of that aren’t something he’s prepared to deal with.

He looks out across the mall and sees hundreds of people going about their day, oblivious to the knowledge it may all come to an end in just a few short years. He’s envious. Suddenly he feels lost and sad, as if something has been stolen from the two of them. Time itself has been taken away from them, no matter what ends up happening.

He doesn’t want to feel sad, not today. So he pulls Scully down to sit on a bench they are passing and cups her face, kissing her right there in the National Mall, not an hour after they became husband and wife. When they pull apart, she looks at him, smiling, the very same way she did after their very first kiss on a New Year’s Eve so long ago. He could live inside that look.

“What was that for?”

“I don’t want to bring the day down, Scully, but I need to say I regret not doing this sooner.”

“Doing what? Getting married?”

“Well, yeah," he says. "Everything, really. I wish we’d done everything sooner. I wish I’d been braver, I wish I’d taken a chance.”

She listens, just letting him talk.

“I regret ever finding out about 2012. I wish we didn’t know. It’s not fair, having that hanging over our heads when we’re just trying to be happy.”

“Mulder, you can’t let that change anything. As strange as it might feel, we have to just live our lives. And I am happy. Being with you makes me happy.”

“I know that, and I am too. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Is it what Agent Doggett said? Where is this coming from?”

He pauses. “Maybe. I don’t know. He made me feel… not good. I don’t like the way he made me feel.”

“You need to let that go," she says. "He could never understand the extent of what you and I have been through together, all we’ve sacrificed. He was just making a bad joke.”

“Bad joke or not, that’s what he thinks of me. And if that’s what he thinks of me, that’s what other people must think of me. Years removed from the FBI, and I’m still _that guy._ ”

“Mulder, since when do you care what anyone thinks of you?” 

He looks her in the eye. “I care what you think of me.”

She smiles, plays with his tie a bit. “Well, I did just marry you, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Right, but did you marry me because of that? Or in spite of that?” It’s not a question he wants to know the answer to. He doesn’t know why it came out at all.

She stops playing with his tie and sits up straighter, looking him in the eye. “Mulder. I love you. I love every part of you, even the batshit crazy parts that drive everyone around us nuts. They are what make you, you. _That guy_ is who I fell in love with.”

He absorbs this, thinking it’s pretty much a perfect answer. She’s so perfect. How _did_ he get so lucky?

“I meant what I said before,” she continues. “I’m tired of the darkness that follows us everywhere. I feel like that part of our lives is behind us, at least I hope it is, for however long we have. I’m not asking you to change. But I guess I am asking you, the Mulder I love, to evolve as our lives evolve. Do you think that’s unreasonable?”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I guess, I’m just having a little trouble evolving because I’ve lost sight of myself somewhere along the way. I need to figure that out.”

She leans against him, and they stare out across the water, the Washington Monument visible to the left and the Lincoln Memorial to their right. She takes his hand, entwining their fingers. “Well, I’ll be here when you do.”

This thought gives him comfort. She’s always been there, and she always will be. She really is the only truth in his life.

He’d be a fool to fuck this up.

It’s beautiful out, she is beautiful, he is happy. Life is good. He decides to save the regret for another day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Home" written by Glen Morgan & James Wong.  
> Dialogue from "I Want to Believe" written by Chris Carter & Frank Spotnitz.


	16. ALIENATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was a time when all she needed was him, all she ever wanted was him by her side, searching for fugitive truths, feeling like what they did meant something, something important. She still believes in this, still believes in him. She knows she always will. It’s not that she no longer cares about their quest, she just feels like she’s put it in her past, and he’s still looking for it in his present."

  _ **ALIENATION**_

  **(pre S10)**

 

**SCULLY**

 

_Don’t give up._

These words had been such a comfort to her all those years ago, and now they seem empty. All she wants to do is give up.

She can’t bring herself to regret falling in love with him. She could never believe they weren’t meant to be together. It had all been too perfect, too real. And it hardly could have been avoided.

She _can_ regret other things. If only she’d convinced him not to travel back to Oregon without her all those years ago. If only she’d been strong enough to let him stay with her and William in spite of the dangers. If only she’d been able to keep William by her side.

_If only..._

Maybe if Mulder had been around she could have found the courage. She doesn’t blame him for that, but she can blame the quest. If only they could be finished with the quest. Maybe then they wouldn’t have been caught up in a chain of events that had forced them to start their lives together in a way that was doomed for failure.

For Scully, the loss of everything she’d ever held dear in her life should have been a breaking point. Her job, contact with her family, her freedom, her very identity had all been given up for Mulder. He should not have been enough for her, but for some reason he was. Nothing but the deepest, most reckless love could have put her on the road with him, hell bent into isolation and further darkness that would only swallow them both whole.

What could she have possibly expected? How did she think this was all going to end?

When she was a girl, she had a family who cared for her, and she’d dreamed of her future: and some great love she’d find one day like in the stories her mother would read to her before kissing her goodnight. As she grew older, her dreams evolved into something more profound: a real connection with another person that would make her whole, fill her every empty space and consume her in the best possible way.

She’d found that in Mulder, and there was no doubt in her mind she would never find it again with anyone else.

But Mulder had never had that kind of family. Even before the tragedy that ripped them all apart when he was only twelve, his family held secrets he might never have escaped, secrets that may well have been the catalyst for the entire horrible thing. Scully was the only family he’s really had for a long time now, and she welcomed that role. Then all she really had was him.

How cruel it is that they now find themselves in this hellscape of distance and loneliness.

She wishes she could determine when and how her unhappiness began so she could figure out a way to stop it, to turn it back, to make it all okay again. Maybe she can put her investigative skills to practical, personal use to save herself… to save them both.

But the things that caused this are things she knows she will never be able to fix.

 _William_.

Deep waves of sadness engulf her.

_Today, he would be ten years old. They’d spend the day at the Air and Space Museum and get ice cream afterwards._

_Today, he would be eleven years old. Mulder would play baseball with him in the front yard, smiles on their faces, father and son._

She would try to imagine what his face would look like, something she does more often than she thinks is healthy. Just as she'd start to put a picture together in her mind she’d push the thought away, and find somewhere quiet to be alone and cry.

She can’t cry in front of Mulder, he can’t understand, not fully. He can’t fix this. No one can.

She and Mulder never talk about him. They rarely even mention his name. It is just too painful. When they do, the conversation feels short and perfunctory. Mulder would try, but there's nothing he could say that would make her feel any better. She can't help but wonder if this topic became one of their many stalemates somewhere along the way, maybe even from the very beginning when she told him in that jail cell. Through no fault of their own, it had shared space in their minds with so many other feelings at the time that they hadn't properly discussed it, and never found the right time to properly discuss it again. There were things left unsaid, things she doesn't want to have to think about.

The emptiness William left in Scully was not healing; it was only deepening. The uncertainty of his fate was eating her alive. And even worse, the fear that Mulder secretly resented her for her decision only intensified with their failure to communicate. She felt this fear acutely with every passing opportunity to discuss it. It was a tiny black spot on their sun that slowly grew over time.

Then there was all that end of the world business. On December 22, 2012 the sun rose and set. The world decided not to end after all.

But it was the beginning of their end.

They’d lived their lives contentedly, for the most part, day by day. But as the dreaded date approached, Mulder had become more and more consumed by it. Perhaps it was genuine fear, or perhaps it was the idleness that had finally gotten to him; finding work again that could satisfy his needs after he lost the X Files had proven difficult. Scully was fortunate to have medicine to fall back on. He was not so fortunate.

When the fateful date came and went, Mulder began to spin out. He seemed restless, almost disappointed that the world hadn’t come to an end. Scully didn’t understand and maybe she never would. The idea that none of it had been the truth after all wasn’t upsetting to her; it meant they could live their lives again without fear. She couldn’t understand why Mulder didn’t feel the same way. It was stubbornness, bullheadedness at its worst. Being vindicated seemed more important to him than actually being alive. She couldn’t help but take that personally.

Now she doesn’t recognize him anymore. He’s become reclusive, even from her, and irritable. She can tell he feels directionless, purposeless. She knows not for what, but he still searches. He always needs to be searching. He sinks deeper and deeper into a world without her in it. And in that world there is no room for her, nowhere for her to seek shelter, nowhere for her to call home.

She can see this is affecting his physical and mental health. She rarely sees his body anymore but when she does she worries. The contours she’s used to have changed. The beard he knows she hates is back, yet another barrier he’s built between them. And his mind… his beautiful mind is wasting away on things she finds so wholly unimportant now.

An eventuality Scully had always feared was that he could never be satisfied, would never stop searching no matter what, and while the world not ending brought her relief, it only brought him anxiety. He knows she doesn’t want to participate in this endless quest any longer so he doesn’t talk to her about it. The more consumed he becomes, the less they talk at all.

She is slowly beginning to realize something deep down she has always hoped: that he would one day outgrow this obsession. The guilt she feels about this epiphany has begun to gnaw at her, because she feels like it means she wants him to change. She loves him, she loves every part of him, so she doesn't understand this.

_I’m not the one who changed. This is me, this is who I was before you met me._

She can’t make him change, and she knows she shouldn’t. But soon she comes to realize he _has_ changed. He isn't the same anymore. He isn't the man she fell in love with anymore. She wants her Mulder back, the Mulder whose passion and dedication meant something, the Mulder who grew in so many ways over the years.

The Mulder who would always take her with him, would always want her there, no matter what.

She's reminded of how it was when he died. She won’t forget how awful it felt, ever, but this is somehow worse because he hasn’t died… he’s still here, but the parts of him she fell in love with have died and they are trying to take her along, like they always have.

They are going somewhere she cannot follow. She cannot go with him anymore. 

There was a time when all she needed was him, all she ever wanted was him by her side, searching for fugitive truths, feeling like what they did _meant_ something, something important. She still believes in this, still believes in him. She knows she always will. It’s not that she no longer cares about their quest, she just feels like she’s put it in her past, and he’s still looking for it in his present.

He comes to bed so late every night. She can’t decide if this is purposeful to avoid her judgment or if he’s completely indifferent to her existence.

This is the scariest part for Scully… the painful awareness that he simply doesn’t see her anymore. It’s a slap in the face. She has counted on this so faithfully, in his relentless pursuit of the truth his loyalty to her was never in question.

He tried for a long time to make her happy, like he’d promised. But she isn’t happy anymore. She isn’t everything and everyone to him. She isn’t enough. The darkness is swallowing him again, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

Her fear of failing him is coming true. She failed William, and now she’s failed Mulder.

As the months pass, she gets desperate. Although they hardly speak anymore, she fears he's calling to her for help. She can't help him in the way she used to, she's lost that ability. But she does what she can for him, as a doctor, and pleads with him to try to help himself. His compliance in this matter is the biggest relief she's felt in months. Over time the antidepressants do what they are meant to do, and slowly but surely she can see him coming out of his fog. 

But the relief she feels is limited to him and him alone. She feels no relief for  _them_. The damage is done.

They’ve completely lost sight of one another, and she knows trying to find their way back is going to be just too hard. There’s only so much of this she can take. She can’t give him everything he needs anymore, and he clearly cannot give her everything she needs either. Just loving each other isn’t enough.

After years of nightmares borne from the horrors of their work, she finds herself having the same simple dreams over and over again. The first one is of Mulder, arriving home from work in his suit and tie, eyes bright and full of purpose. He kisses her cheek as she leans into him, happy, alive, _unafraid._

The only other dream is the sweet tiny face of William, gripping her index finger and looking up into her eyes.

These dreams are more frightening than any of the ones she’d had back when they worked on the X Files, because they paint a picture of a life she once thought she’d have and now knows she never will. Having these dreams dangled in front of her nightly is almost too much to bear.

She can’t tell him what she’s feeling. For so many years she’s lived his life, chosen that life over and over again because she loved him. And he told her he’d give her the life she wanted because he loved her. The kind of life she dreams about isn’t the kind of life he wants, isn’t the life he’s ever wanted or needed and she knows this. She’s always known it but she fell in love with him anyway.

She can’t be angry with him. She can only be angry with herself. And so she is.

She can’t remember the last time they made love, how it had been, what it had felt like. She wishes she could. Some nights she will feel him slide into bed beside her, his warmth just a painful memory. He reaches for her and she pretends to be asleep. After awhile he stops trying at all.

One morning she wakes and turns over to see his side of the bed completely untouched and she feels a sharp pain in her heart. Somehow she knows something has changed significantly, perhaps permanently.

She quietly descends the stairs and peers into the living room, seeing what she feared she’d see: Mulder, asleep on the couch.

The sight of him there, back where he started before they’d met, is enough to break her into two. Her legs give way but she somehow finds the strength to get herself back into the bedroom before she collapses into tears, the door closing behind her, sliding down to the floor.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

 

He hasn’t been the best partner, or husband, or even friend to her lately, he knows that. He isn’t sure how it began, or exactly when. But what felt like an endless cycle of darkness has spiraled out and down. He can't contain it, as much as he'd like to.

He knows he started to feel restless as the colonization date approached. He was staring down the figurative barrel of a gun. Every day that brought them closer to the end of the world brought new fears, new anxieties, new guilt, and new reasons to keep looking for more answers. He was getting sucked back into the dark world he’d sworn to Scully he’d stay away from and he hadn’t even realized it until he was too far gone. And as the date came and went without incident, he had become again what he’d tried so hard to avoid.

He starts to doubt his own self worth, his own value. If he was wrong about this, what else is he wrong about? There has to be an answer, a worthwhile reason he’s given up so much time and energy on this over the last ten years. There has to be something, something to make all that time wasted worth the waste. He feels so incredibly guilty for the time that had been stolen from him, the time that had been stolen from Scully, that he continues searching, sinking further into his already sunk cost.

He often thinks about William, the son he never knew. The son he never knew he even wanted. There are moments he feels such pain and desperation at the loss he wants to blame Scully for making him leave them behind, and then blame her some more for giving William up.

But he would never blame her. He knows none of it was her fault, none of it. Every bit of it is his own fault. It’s always been his fault.

So he starts to hate himself.

Weeks pass, months pass, and it gets worse. The longer the distance continues between the two of them, the harder it becomes to bridge it. He would prefer yelling and screaming to this cold, silent indifference. It has never been this way with Scully before, not like this. He knows he’s losing her and he’s powerless to stop it.

He feels like he is drowning, and for the first time he knows even she can’t rescue him. He’s not sure what to do. There are times he can hear her crying in the bathroom and he feels so helpless and useless he buries himself in his office and disappears into space. Quite literally, all he has is his obsession.

He hasn’t stopped seeing her. He just doesn’t want her seeing him like this.

One day, she comes to him and tells him she’s prescribed him medication. She’s worried about him, she says. She only wants him to feel better.

He knows what she means is she wants him to _be_ better.

He can’t be better, he feels as if he will never be good enough, but he starts taking the pills anyway because there’s nothing else he can do for her.

As months pass, the medication does what it’s supposed to, and he can feel himself coming out of his dark place. The anxiety he suffered during the run-up to that fateful date he feared so much is wearing off slowly with every day. The meds help, but time is the thing that seems to be doing the trick. The more time that passes, the more certain he becomes that his fears were unfounded, and he learns to be grateful.

For the first time in many, many months, he’s starting to feel like himself again. The tiniest wellspring of hope bubbles up inside him that maybe they can turn this around, somehow.

One night he climbs into bed beside Scully and puts a hand on her hip. She’s turned onto her side, her back to him. He doesn’t realize until this moment how much he’s missed this, how much he aches for her touch. It's been a long time, he knows it has. He can remember how long it's been.

He brings his face close in the dark, gently moves her hair aside and softly kisses the back of her neck, the tiny scar there a painful reminder of what it cost her to love him.

“Hey,” he whispers.

She doesn’t move, and her calm, steady breathing leads him to assume she is already asleep. He rolls onto his back and hopes tomorrow will be better.

It isn’t.

 

 

***

 

 

“I can’t do this anymore, Mulder.”

She is standing in the doorway of his office. He is sitting on the floor, surrounded by files, newspapers, photos. He doesn’t look at her. He sighs, closes his eyes.

“Scully.”

She crosses the room and drops to her knees to face him. She sits back onto her heels and they regard each other. It’s the first time she’s made eye contact with him in weeks. “I can’t be with you like this. It isn’t fair.”

He looks into her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m leaving. I can’t be here anymore.”

Mulder feels a sharp pain, like he’s been punched in the gut. _No… this can’t be happening. Not this. Never this._

In an instant, a million Scullys flash before him as he looks at her face, this face he’s been so used to looking at for twenty years. _Twenty years_ and she’s somehow found it impossible to stay with him. How could he have let this happen?

He shakes his head. “But… I don’t understand, I thought…” For some reason he’d felt like they made an unspoken deal when he started taking the medication. That it was a progression. Get better, then fix this. That was what he thought, at least. “I mean, I’m feeling better. The medication is working. I’m starting to feel like myself again.”

But he knows her face so well, it hits him instantly that she has made up her mind, and nothing he says is going to change it now. This is not like that time in his hallway all those years ago; there are no magic words he can utter to make her stay.

“Mulder, I know. I know you’re feeling better, and I’m extremely relieved. That’s why I’m telling you this now. I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought you were still in the place you were.”

His mind races. How long has she been thinking about this? How long has she been planning to leave him? He knew things were bad, but he also knew it was still the two of them. They could survive anything. They’d survived evil conspirators, flukemen, black oil viruses… hell, he’d _died and come back to life_ and they’d somehow made it through all of that.

Can this really be what finishes them? A plain, old-fashioned break up?

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t believe this.”

She’s finding it hard to look at him. “I don’t want to hurt you, that’s not something I ever wanted to do. I just know I can’t stay here. I’m never going to be enough for you, Mulder, and what I don’t believe is how blind I’ve been to this fact since the day I met you.”

He feels like she’s knocked the wind out of him. He doesn’t know what to say. He racks his brain, trying to think of where exactly he’d fucked this up beyond redemption, how he made her feel this way, how he’d apparently always made her feel this way. Nothing.

“Maybe I wasn’t blind, I don’t know," she continues. "Maybe I’ve just chosen not to see, not to believe it. All these years, I thought somehow…”

She doesn’t finish this sentence for some reason. Maybe she doesn’t want to make things even worse. He can’t think of anything she could possibly say that would make this worse.

“How long until the next big thing, Mulder? The next obsession? The next truth you have to go searching for? And when you find that one, what’s after that? Or if you don’t… well, that’s even worse.” Her eyes are starting to well up.

“Scully… I love you.” It’s the only thing his heart can speak. Everything else feels irrelevant at the moment. His voice comes out in an unfamiliar timbre he barely recognizes. It’s something he’s not used to, something like defeat. “Whatever you may say, whatever you may think... I have to believe you know that.”

She looks at her lap. “I know you do, Mulder. That’s not why I’m leaving.”

“Then... why?” He can’t think, he can’t come up with words fast enough. She’s leaving him, for real this time. He can’t fathom such an outcome. No matter what, he’s always counted on her being there. He feels like parts of him are trying to float away and he can’t keep his grasp.

She looks up at him. “You know what I was thinking about the other day? Back when you were in jail and I begged you to testify to save your own life, do you remember what you said to me?”

He looks at her blankly. _This was so long ago, why is she bringing this up?_

“You said you wouldn’t because the truth was bigger than you or me.”

He stares at her. “At the time that’s what I thought, Scully. I can’t change the past. I can’t change how I felt, or what I learned, or how I learned it, or what came of it all which was a big fat nothing.”

“I know you can’t,” she whispers, looking at the floor again.

Suddenly, he’s angry. “Do you think I wanted to have that information? Do you know how much time I wasted worrying about the end of the world that never happened? How many days went by where all I could think about was how few we had left with each other?”

“I do know, Mulder. I know all too well.” There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes. “And you spent so much time worrying about it you forgot I was here.”

He presses his hands to his face, covering his eyes. He knows she’s right. He should have known better. He should have been more careful. They’d already wasted enough time. He can’t believe they’ve come to this.

“When I told you in that jail cell I was in this fight for us, for you and me, you said nothing. I can’t begin to describe to you how much that hurt me. We’d been separated for so long, I missed you so much, all I wanted was you, all I needed was you, and you told me to my face you’d rather die than jeopardize the quest.” She can’t control her tears anymore and her voice is shaking. “If Kersh hadn’t helped get you out of jail that night, you would be dead right now and that’s the last thing you would have said to me.”

He’s quiet for a moment. _I am a complete fucking asshole._

“But that was so long ago, Scully. I’m… I’m different now.” Even as he says the words, he knows deep down they’re not really true. “Things with us are different. You know I’d never say something like that now.”

“Do I?” There’s no hostility in her voice, just defeat. The pain he sees in her eyes is more real than anything he’s ever searched for. She’s given up. On him, on them. Maybe she should. Maybe he deserves all of this.

“You remember that night we drove out to Groom Lake together? It was a weekend. You wanted to go, and I got in the car with you. We drove past thousands of other lifetimes being lived out around us, lives of people who were happy and safe. I knew we may not find anything. I knew we’d probably get in trouble. But I stayed in the car, with you. It was where I wanted to be. It was where I always wanted to be.”

He can only listen now.

She continues, quietly. “And then that night you escaped your jail cell, I got in the car with you again and we drove. We drove and drove and drove. Do you remember that?”

He nods. She takes his hands in hers and looks at him.

“There was no hesitation from either of us. You knew no matter what, I’d get in that car with you and follow you wherever you led.”

She reaches out to touch his face, and he looks into her eyes for what he fears may be the last time. There’s nothing he can do about it.

“I love you, Mulder. I always will. But I can’t get in the car with you this time.”

She leans forward and kisses him. He can feel the warm tears from her eyes on his face before she pulls away, not looking at him, gets up off the floor, and walks out of his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "I Want to Believe" written by Chris Carter & Frank Spotnitz.


	17. ISOLATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s as if they are arguing again about Bigfoot or Big Blue or Big Whatever Else, and they both want to be right, and they can’t both be right, but neither can be proven wrong, so they’re left in an infuriatingly frustrating stalemate. She thinks about this, then, just as quickly, the desire passes and she puts the phone down and continues to learn to live without him."

**_ISOLATION_ **

 

**SCULLY**

**(pre S10/ My Struggle I)**

 

_Loneliness is a choice._

It’s a choice she’s making again, but this time it feels different. This time she feels like she has no choice. She could be lonely with him, or be lonely without him.

The thought of being lonely with Mulder was the more painful of those two choices. So she left.

Trying to adjust to a life without him has not been easy. She knew it would be a huge change, but she hadn’t anticipated how every single facet of her life would be completely new. New living space, new routine, new acquaintances, new mindset. She supposes that’s what happens when you're so utterly dependent on another person.

Scully had always vowed not to be that person, not to be someone whose very existence relied so heavily on another, let alone on a man. But she broke that vow to herself years ago, she knew it then and she knows it now. She’s left herself completely vulnerable, no safety net in sight. He was her only safety net. Extricating herself from his orbit has been more difficult than she’s comfortable admitting.

The first few days had been a relief. After that it became torture.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing he was a phone call away and she couldn’t talk to him. She had arranged with one of her doctor colleagues to check up on him weekly and refill his prescriptions, which he agreed to wordlessly. She'd told her colleague to contact her if she'd encountered any problems or was ever unable to contact him, and so far she'd heard nothing. This satisfied her, for the time being, in regards to his health. 

Divorcing him was something she’d never seriously considered. She tried to convince herself she avoided the topic because she didn’t want to go through all the paperwork and rigamarole involved in dissolving their relationship legally, but she knew that wasn’t the truth. The truth was, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. Regardless of whether or not they’d ever get back together, he’d always be joined to her somehow. The thought of adding to both their heartbreaks with such a request was unfathomable to her, at least right now.

Twenty years. Twenty years together and somehow they'd made it all go away. 

She buries herself in her work every day, knowing every life saved is one more that isn't her own. She's trying to be happy, but without him, she's lost. She doesn't feel regret, or acrimony, or bitterness; just loss. She's lost the person she cares about more than anything in the world.

She hasn’t spoken to him, other than words necessary to get her things moved out of their house, in ten months. She took what she needed, left everything else behind. 

She knows it’s because she secretly hopes she will be back someday, but whenever she thinks about the possibility of this she can’t bring herself to call him. It’s as if they are arguing again about Bigfoot or Big Blue or Big Whatever Else, and they both want to be right, and they can’t both be right, but neither can be proven wrong, so they’re left in an infuriatingly frustrating stalemate. She thinks about this, then, just as quickly, the desire passes and she puts the phone down and continues to learn to live without him.

She’s never gone this long without speaking to him since they met. The gravity of that fact is only setting in now.

Her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID, and doesn’t know why she picks up. She wants to be mad at him but she’s not mad at him, she’s just sad about the whole thing. She’s needed this space to re-establish herself as her own person, her own being. Someone outside of his magnetic pull. But she can’t help but miss him. She’s ignored his calls for months and he hasn’t given up. A small part of her is hopeful that he hasn’t given up.

“Hello?”

 _“Oh… hi. You picked up.”_ His voice sounds good, he sounds good. He sounds more like himself again. She’s glad to hear that. After she left she’d worried about the very real possibility he might relapse. The familiarity of his voice hits her in the gut, not to mention how sexy she’s always found it. She tries to ignore _that_ errant thought.

“I did.”

_“So… how is everything?”_

She pauses. “Okay. How are you?”

_“I’m doing all right. It’s been really quiet around here.”_

“I’ll bet.”

_“Yeah, I’m thinking about getting a dog.”_

“You are not,” she says incredulously. She’d floated the idea of getting a dog before but he’d never bitten. He had always been more of a fish kind of person.

 _“No, I’m not. Just wanted to see what you’d say,”_ she can hear him smiling. She smiles and rolls her eyes in spite of herself.

“I’d have one by now if my apartment allowed them,” she admits.

_“How’s work going?”_

“Mulder, did you really just call to chat?”

_“Yes. Is that so wrong?”_

She’s quiet for a second. Sighs.

_“Look, Scully, it’s silly for you to avoid me like this. Just because things didn’t work out for us as a couple it doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.”_

She wants to tell him that yes, actually, that’s exactly what it means. It’s only been ten months. What does he think this is, a vacation? She knows where being friendly with him will lead. It will lead to a place she doesn’t have the willpower to say no to, and then they’d be in trouble all over again.

She can’t tell him the reason they can’t be friends; she’d be admitting a weakness. He’s left her without a choice. She suspects, as usual, the motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing. A brief flash of annoyance comes over her and she grits her teeth.

One point to Mulder.

“You’re right,” she concedes.

 _“Okay, friend, so how’s work?"_ She can practically hear him grinning on the other side of the line. She gives in, because in spite of everything she does miss him.

“It’s fine. My hours have been pretty crazy, but it’s a good thing.” She doesn’t complete the thought, that it’s a good thing because she has less spare time to think about him. But he’s probably completed the thought without her. He tends to do that.

_“Yeah, I know what you mean. My hours around here are completely nuts.”_

She hears a basketball bounce across the room and pictures him in their living room, probably wearing jeans and a T shirt, laying on the couch. She’s sure he’d been spinning the ball and had just lost hold of it. The place is probably a disaster without her around. She can’t help but smile.

“So what have you been up to?”

_“You really want to know?”_

She really does. “I really do.”

_“Well, believe it or not, I’m writing a book. I’ve been following your advice.”_

She’s stunned. “That’s… fantastic. I’m glad to hear that, honestly.”

_“Thanks. You’re in it, you know.”_

“I… really?” She hadn’t much thought about it but of course she would be. How could she not be?

_“Of course, how could you not be?”_

“Can I read it?” The words are out of her mouth before she gives herself a chance to think this through.

_“Sure, but I’m not finished. Actually I’d really appreciate your help, I don’t have access to our files so I’m doing it mostly from memory.”_

“It’s not all about UFOs, is it?”

_“Well, I’m not gonna lie to you Scully, they play a part. Does that surprise you?”_

She sighs. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just… done with all of that, Mulder. UFOs, aliens, all of that stuff had a stranglehold on my very existence. I’d rather not revisit it.”

He’s quiet for a moment. _“Well, tell me how you really feel.”_

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” She cannot get pulled back into his world. “You know what I mean.”

_“Well, would it surprise you if I told you it’s mostly about us?”_

Something stirs in her belly. It’s a feeling she knows well: Comfort. Familiarity.

Love.

She wants to push it away but it’s strong.

“You mean… you and me?”

_“Yeah.”_

She smiles and for a moment neither of them speak. It’s such a small thing, maybe even a silly thing, but it’s so meaningful to her. His life on the X Files in a book and it’s mostly about the two of them. She’s touched.

“Well, I’ll do what I can to help.”

She can't believe she’s essentially committed to helping Mulder write a book within five minutes of being on the phone with him. Between this and getting her to agree to a friendship she starts to believe the man truly is a dark wizard of some kind.

 _“Thanks, Scully. That’s… that’s big of you.”_ He says it genuinely, no sarcasm. For a moment they just sit quietly, together and apart, breathing on either end of the line. She wants to hang up almost as desperately as she doesn’t.

“Well, I should probably go.”

He sighs _. “Yeah.”_

“I’ve got some work to do.”

_“Scully, I miss you.”_

A knot forms in her stomach. The words are out now, and they can’t be taken back. She misses him too. She’d never want him to know how much, but he’s said it now. She doesn’t speak for a long time.

 _“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know.”_ He sounds sincere. He’s trying. She does appreciate his effort.

She can’t let this phone call take that kind of turn. She can’t get sucked back in. So she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She needs to let him go, now.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

_“Okay. Bye.”_

She clicks the phone off and sits at her kitchen table. It’s a small table, the smallest one she could find, but it’s still meant for two.

 

***

 

Scully goes to the mirror and cleans up the spots of blood on her neck from the surgery she’d been performing. She quickly removes her scrubs in the locker room and changes into her street clothes. She touches up her makeup and straightens her hair. It’s the quickest she’s ever had to prepare for anything resembling a date. Last but not least, she pulls out her black Jimmy Choos and slips them on, replacing them in her locker with the sneakers she’d been standing on for hours.

God, she could use a drink.

She’d tried to go out with other men over the last year or so. After nearly two years without Mulder she thought she might be ready. She’d made a solid effort to find someone who could fill the gaping hole she created when she removed him from her life. But it would always go the same way: some perfectly nice guy engaging her in some perfectly boring conversation which, in the end, could never be a substitute for what she and Mulder shared. Always just some guy who wasn’t Mulder.

She could accept no substitutes. There was no relief in a silhouette.

It won’t stop her from trying. She’ll be damned if she can’t beat this. She beat cancer, for God’s sake.

She exits the hospital and Tad O’Malley is waiting for her, holding the door open to his limousine. She smiles and allows him to help her inside. They sit down and he immediately pours two flutes of Dom Pérignon. She’s impressed, in spite of herself.

“So… tell me more about your work on the X Files, Dana. I’m extremely interested.”

 _Christ._ She doesn’t want to disappoint him the second this thing begins so she decides to indulge him for a bit. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, how do you feel about all this? Do you believe in the paranormal?”

A memory stirs and she thinks of Mulder, young and eager, asking her basically the same question over twenty years ago. Why can’t she stop these memories from persisting?

“I was assigned to the X Files as a scientist, so I come at things from a more rational perspective. But over the years I’ve had… experiences that defy explanation.” She’s recited this mantra so many times she wants to laugh.

“What kinds of experiences?”

She’s not sure where to start. The truth is, the most amazing thing she experienced was Mulder. But she can’t tell him that, especially after the way she practically badmouthed him to Tad earlier. She feels a little bad about that now.

She digs up a couple stories to placate him, and after a few minutes they are chatting companionably, sipping champagne. It feels like the beginning of a nice date. Until:

“And what about Fox Mulder? Does he really believe in these things? He seems a little disillusioned. Not what I expected, actually.”

She hesitates, not sure where to take this. “And what did you expect, Mr. ‘O'Malley?”

“Please, call me Tad.”

“What did you expect, Tad?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s… passionate, driven, dedicated. Earlier today he just seemed a little… lost. Standoffish.”

Scully tenses a bit. This is unexpected, something she hadn’t anticipated. “He’s... had a rough few years. It’s been rough for us both.”

She’s instantly uncomfortable, not sure how much she wants to reveal. Unfortunately she fears she’s given too much away already.

“So… you two _were_ in a relationship.”

She looks at him. “Is this really what you’re trying to ask me? Because you could have just asked me, so we can move on.”

“I’m sorry, Dana. I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

She doesn’t want him to know how rattled she is. “It’s fine. Mulder is just… whenever these sorts of things take hold of him, he goes somewhere that it’s very hard for him to come back from. I worry about the effect it has on his health, that’s all.”

He looks confused. “But you two are… not together anymore, right?”

She looks Tad directly in the eye. “He’s been my whole world for the better part of two decades. I’ll always worry about him, whether we’re together or not.”

He looks a little chagrined. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to denigrate anything. Just trying to figure out where I stand here, is all,” he grins.

She smiles at him. Tad isn’t a bad guy, and he’s nice. He’s good looking, and charming. He’s a fucking Republican, it would never work for the two of them in any long term sense, but maybe just for tonight he could make her forget about everything else.

She tries to imagine what it would be like to wrap her legs around his face but as usual these thoughts always morph into Mulder being there instead. She flushes at a thousand memories that leap to her mind, and one very specific memory of the two of them in a limousine very much like this one.

“Do you need me to turn the air conditioning on? You look warm,” Tad offers.

She looks away towards the tinted glass. “I’m fine,” she replies.

Dana Scully is always fine.

 

  
  
  
**MULDER**

  **(S10/ post-Babylon)**

 

 

Living without her has been nearly impossible. Actually impossible.

More than impossible.

As with most impossible occurrences in his life, Mulder has been forced to believe it, and motivated to search for the answer. He doesn’t have her with him this time, so it will be harder.

Waiting until he’d surfaced from his depression to leave him was such a Scully thing to do, it brought him comfort in a strange way. He knew she’d worry about him, and she was careful to leave him a lifeline. Her colleague had been courteous, punctual, and efficient, just like Scully always was, and he felt so guilty for hurting her enough to make her leave that he’d done everything the doctor asked of him to keep Scully’s mind at ease.

He didn't want to add to her pain. He hadn’t wanted to be the cause of it in the first place. He hadn't wanted to become the burden he’d so desperately desired her to be rid of.

It was strange… taking the meds and doing what he was supposed to do to get healthy was easier after she left, not harder. He wanted to be better. His only goal in mind was to make everything okay again, to get her to come back to him. It was all he thought about every day. It consumed his waking mind.

_How do I make this right? What can I do to deserve her?_

It wasn’t a new thought; it was something he’d thought about many times in the past. He’d never truly felt worthy of her and she finally told him with her actions he hadn’t been.

When she told him how she’d felt that night in his jail cell he felt something awaken inside him; something he’d known for a long time but hadn’t allowed himself to truly feel: he needed to earn her. Even though he’d allowed himself to be with her, to love her and let her love him, he knew he had work to do. He'd allowed his obsession to take hold of him in a way that should only have been reserved for her.

He doesn't fully understand this yet, but he's trying to. He will try as long as it takes, until he gets this right. Until he gets her back.

 

 

***

 

 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Scully laments as they drive towards the airport, the scruffy little dog in a cage in the backseat. “My building manager is never going to let me keep him.”

“Why’d you take him, then?” Mulder isn’t angry, or annoyed. Just curious.

“I don’t know, his name is Daggoo. It’s like he was meant for me. I couldn’t just leave him there all alone.”

They’ve been back on the X Files for a few months now and Mulder feels a sense of relief that things are starting to feel somewhat normal again. Well, as normal as things can be when the woman you love isn’t in love with you anymore, but is working with you; isn’t living with you, but _is_ still married to you. That kind of normal.

He should be used to that kind of normal by now.

At least they’ve fallen back into the work as if they’d never left. He’s been needing something to focus on, and when Skinner asked them both back he didn’t hesitate. Scully didn’t either, though for understandably different reasons.

Getting officially reinstated into the Bureau was not the ordeal Mulder had feared it might be. A couple signatures here, some training courses they’d had to retake there, and they were officially FBI agents again. It was strange after having been on the run from this very organization for so long to be back in its midst, being given the trust he thought he’d lost so many years ago. He’s hardly certain he wants to give them his own trust again. But he feels content; back where he belongs. It’s nice to be Agent Mulder once more.

It was awkward when he had to disclose their marriage to the Bureau, however. The FBI doesn’t have an official policy stating partnered agents couldn’t be married, but Mulder was forced to admit they weren’t together anymore even though they hadn’t signed any dissolution documents. Skinner seemed genuinely disappointed by this turn of events, which Mulder found somewhat comforting.

He was a little ashamed that he was still susceptible to the pull of his obsession, however, and was worried that all that Sveta stuff had rubbed Scully the wrong way. But he knew Scully understood that there was something going on that was important, perhaps even important enough to put aside their differences and work together on the X Files as they always had to find a common goal; to search for a common truth.

He isn't sure yet if they share another common goal, which is finding their way back to one another. He feels as if this reassignment to the X Files was somehow fated; that it means something, not only for the X Files but for the two of them. He can only hope she can find it in herself to feel the same way.

Now they are driving in their rental car with a couple suitcases and a dog, like a family headed home from vacation. And apparently this dog is not going to have a home when they get back.

Scully’s hand is on her brow, looking sadly out the window. The sight of her in this state makes Mulder react more quickly than he expects.

“I’ll keep him,” he offers.

She looks at him, upset, and shakes her head. “Oh please, Mulder. You hate dogs.”

“I do not hate dogs,” he responds, somewhat affronted.

“You never wanted one when we were together.”

“There were a lot of things I didn’t do when we were together,” he says, turning his head to look at her.

She stares at him with her hands in her lap. He’s noticed this lately, she keeps her hands very close to her body most of the time, as if she can’t trust them around him.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says quietly. “I’ll find someone to take him.”

For a moment he decides to maybe just let her find someone else. He doesn’t really want a dog, he’s just trying to be helpful. He just wants that sad look on her face to go away. If it were anyone else he’d never have said a thing. But then he realizes what this could mean for them. If he takes her dog, and she allows him to, that could be a sign that she’s open to seeing him socially. If she wants to see the dog, she has to see him. It would be worth all the hair and the drool and the shit to get to see her at all.

He’s decided. He’s the one who’s going to take her dog, dammit.

“He’s going to live with me, Scully.”

She lifts her head up, wearily. “Are you really serious? Can you even care for a dog?”

“Scully, I had a dog once. I think. Plus we have- I have that big yard. He’s going to love it.”

He can tell she’s in already, but she’s faking mulling it over. He just keeps on driving because he knows she won’t say no.

“Okay.” She smiles at him. “Maybe this will be good for you. Dogs are great company.”

“I know you worry about me all alone in our little house,” he points out. He doesn’t correct himself and neither does she. It _is_ their house. Both their names are still on the deed.

“You never cease to amaze me, Mulder.”

 

***

 

Daggoo has been great company, and no one is more pleasantly surprised than Mulder. The dog is perfect. He listens, is housebroken, and he doesn’t even shed. It’s as if he’s Scully in canine form.

Maybe that’s why Mulder loves him already.

“Daggoo! Here, boy!” He takes the dog out into the front yard and throws a tennis ball for him. It’s hard to do this on the weekdays, but weekends have become surprisingly filled with Daggoo-related activities. It’s nice to have something to put his energy into that isn’t self-destructive.

Weeks have passed and the two of them have fallen into a comfortable routine. They wake up together, Mulder lets him into the yard and feeds him, and just before he leaves for work Daggoo climbs the stairs and snuggles into Scully’s old side of the bed, napping for most of the day. It’s where he spends most of the day, most every day. Mulder never showed him where to sleep; the dog decided this was his place. The symbolism is not lost on him.

Mulder’s plan has worked; Scully visits at least once a week. For the first few weeks she focused on the dog, bringing food and treats and toys, maybe out of obligation or guilt that she’d saddled Mulder with this animal. But after a few weeks her focus is back on him. Some days he will sit out on the porch and see a familiar SUV pull up without any warning, Daggoo fast asleep upstairs. She doesn’t ask about the dog. Those are the visits he lives for; when she arrives for him.

They are slowly becoming friends again, partners again, and definitely not out of obligation. She wants to be there. Daggoo has become a buffer, an excuse for her to come visit, and he’s grateful for it.

“So it looks like you two have been getting along nicely?” Scully asks one day as they sit on the porch together, Daggoo running around the yard.

"Yeah, I guess I’m a dog person after all.”

“You see?” She smiles. “You look good, Mulder. You look really good. I’m glad.”

He grins at her, relaxed and happy. “I feel good.”

“How are you doing with your meds?”

“Stopped. Two weeks ago.”

She’s quiet and looks at him. “Are you sure that’s the wisest course?”

“I’m doing okay, Scully. I feel like I’ve found my way again. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

She looks genuinely happy, and tilts her head a bit. “I’m glad to hear that, really.”

He looks her right in the eye and says it. “I’m doing it for you, you know.”

She looks away, uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter. He will not give up, not ever.

She gazes out across the yard at Daggoo, jumping and biting at flying bugs. “He doesn’t try to run away?” she asks idly.

Mulder hasn’t moved his eyes from her face. “No. I think he might like it here.”

She finally looks back at him. “Dogs are simple creatures, with simple needs. I’m sure you can give him everything he could possibly want.”

“I guess so. He’s stuck around so far.”

This is what they do. This is how they operate. Dancing around a topic they need to discuss but cannot get down to it. He’s used to it, frustrated by it, but he can’t push her now. This needs to be on her timetable.

She holds all the cards. He only has a dog.

“I’m glad he seems to be happy here. I really appreciate you giving him a home.”

Mulder nods. “Anytime.”

Hours later, after she’s been gone for awhile, Mulder lays in bed and thinks about her. He does this every night, every night since she left. He imagines her laying next to him the way she used to, and he can almost sense her presence until Daggoo hops up onto the bed and reminds him she is gone.

The dog nestles into his side and falls asleep more promptly than any sentient being should be able to. Mulder scratches Daggoo’s head and tries to remember a time when he wasn’t so lonely, a time when she needed him the way this dog does. A time when he should have taken better care.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes. He’s on a mission. He’s going to make her see she needs him again too.

 

***

 

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened. Maggie Scully passed away, and Scully had asked him to go the funeral with her, but the sadness of the event had weighed upon them both far too much for him to consider any improvement in their relationship.

He’d been close to Maggie, especially since he and Scully married. It was an unforeseen side effect of marriage he enjoyed immensely: gaining back a family.

A large chunk of time had passed where they hadn't spoken to any of the Scullys while they were in hiding, and it’s one more thing Mulder can’t help but feel guilty about. She’d given up seeing her own family so that she could be his.

William’s adoption had been the last straw for Bill Jr., however. They’d seen Bill and his family once since they got married. As usual, he blamed Mulder for his family’s misfortune and as usual, Mulder took it to heart. He couldn’t deny responsibility even when Scully defended him. Bill Jr. and his family had been stationed in Germany years ago and he and Scully had kept their distance.

Maggie, however, had always cared for him like her own son, like he suspected a mother is supposed to. And he cared for her. After they’d come out of hiding she’d become his family too, and he loved having a real family again.

Now that she’s gone, it should be another reason for Scully to bring her walls down. But she hasn’t. She lets him support her however he can, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s only because she has no choice: he’s literally all she has left now.

He hates to see Scully hurting, especially when they are in this state of limbo, where he doesn’t know how to comfort her. He doesn’t know the right way. He will do anything and everything she needs, as long as she’s willing to tell him what that is.

The only thing he feels comfortable doing is listening, and holding her. She allows him to. So it’s what he does.

 

***

 

The months go by comfortably, although he can’t help but notice the time passing. Every time he and Scully see each other, be it at work or when she visits Daggoo, they fall more and more back into the way they used to be. At least, the way they used to be before Scully came into his bedroom that night and changed both their worlds forever. It’s hard for him to believe something so meaningful that took so long to happen could be undone so easily.

Being here again in this place, however, feels like a step backward this time rather than merely an interim because he knows their potential. He knows how great they can be when they are everything to each other.

He wants to get back there, desperately. But for now, he can only be content with their friendship. They’re spending most of their time together nowadays, and he can’t complain. It feels like old times, whether they are in the field chasing after a Band-Aid Nose man or strolling quietly around the house discussing heavenly trumpets. It feels like everything is settling down.

“What are you up to tonight, Scully?” he asks as he puts some files into their office cabinet and closes it, another long work day over. They’d spent the past three evenings together and he was hoping to make it four.

“I think I’m going to head back to my place tonight, Mulder. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

He tries not to be disappointed, but he has a sneaking suspicion she wants to keep some distance between them. He can’t decide if she’s just sick of him, or if she’s keeping some kind of arbitrary boundary. He doesn’t think they are quite in a place where they’d be in danger of crossing some physical line, but he’s not in her head.

Her feet are up on the desk and she’s perusing some autopsy photos from earlier that day. She tilts her head up and grabs the side of her neck, stretching it. Hearing her wince in pain, Mulder seizes an opportunity.

“Let me get that.”

Before she can protest, his hands are on her shoulders, kneading them the same way he would when she’d arrive home from a long day at the hospital. She puts her feet and her photos down but doesn’t try to stop him. He knows she won’t make him stop. A bath and a neck massage are the two indulgences even a Flukeman couldn’t get in her way of.

She breathes deeply and allows him to make her feel better. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He knows they’re both actively trying not to think about where such an activity would typically lead them. Considering they haven’t said a thing regarding the status of their relationship, the concern seems to be unjustified, at least for the moment.

As he kneads the tension out of her shoulders he feels her relaxing. It’s been so long, so long since he’s been able to touch her like this and he misses it so much. He misses her so much.

“That feel okay?” he asks.

Her eyes are closed and she hums a bit. “No, you’re terrible at this.”

“You realize it’s a serious crime to lie to an FBI agent.”

“Okay, it’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He doesn’t want to say anything, he wants to just enjoy what’s happening but he can’t help himself.

“How do you like living alone?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment. “It’s been fine.”

Of course she’d say that. She’s always fine.

“I haven’t thought it was fine. Not for a long time. But having Daggoo around has been really nice.”

“I’m really glad that worked out.”

He can sense she’s not going to offer much, but he can also sense she’s open to hearing what he has to say, so he goes on. “It’s kind of like having you around again. He’s clean, and he likes to cuddle.”

“He’s like me? Does that mean he bites?”

“No. He kisses me when I get home from work, though.”

He isn’t sure how long they can continue this particular round of bantering before crossing into awkward territory. But then she does something he is not expecting. She reaches up to her shoulder and puts her hand over his. She pulls his hand into her cheek and slightly tilts her head into it.

“I’ll bet he'd never leave you.”

His heart stops. He knows it’s not possible but it feels that way. He can’t see her face, so he just looks at the back of her head. He squeezes her hand.

“He doesn’t have a reason to.”

They stay that way for what feels like a long time but is probably only a few seconds. Time always seems to slow down when clarity comes to the forefront.

She squeezes his hand back and then the moment is over. She stands and heads towards the door to get her jacket.

“Thanks for the back rub, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives him a gentle smile, her eyes not hiding the sadness there.

“See you.”

She heads out the door and he just stands there, not moving an inch until he hears the elevator door closing.

 

 

***

 

 

He turns his key in the lock and enters the darkness of the house. The usual clattering of doggy nails doesn’t reach his ears and he instantly feels a sharp jolt of fear.

“Daggoo? Here, boy!”

Nothing.

Mulder’s long work hours required him to leave a doggy door for Daggoo to go out and do his business, but the dog always returned. He had never gotten around to building a fence because he’d simply never felt the need.

He goes from room to room, searching, but Daggoo is nowhere to be found. He goes upstairs to see his usual spot on the bed, a tiny indentation against Scully’s pillow.

Vacant. For the second time.

The sight of it brings him to the floor. He weeps for his lost friend but mostly for what his disappearance represents.

 

 

***

 

 

He must have fallen asleep because he wakes to Scully’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mulder? Mulder, it’s me.”

He opens his eyes and it’s still dark. She’s still in her work clothes.

“Scully? What are you doing here?”

“I… I changed my mind. I didn’t want to be alone after all.”

He smiles, then remembers Daggoo. How is he going to tell her?

“What’s wrong, Mulder? Why are you asleep on the floor?”

He can only pull her into a hug. She lets him and they sit together on the floor.

“I- I lost Daggoo.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, and just lets him hold her. “I’m so sorry.”

This entire thing is so confusing. Daggoo is his dog, but also hers. They share the burden, as always. But the walls won’t come down. The goddamn walls won’t come down. Someone has to start removing bricks.

“I don't know what I'm doing, Scully. I don't know how to do this. I miss you so much,” he cries into her shoulder. “This is so hard, I just wish you could feel what I’m feeling.”

Her arms go around him and she holds him close. After a moment she responds. “I miss you too, Mulder. I do.” Like any time she sees him break down, he knows she is crying now too. “Please don’t be upset. I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”

Her hands go to the back of his neck and she brings his forehead to hers. It’s a start, a real start, the way they have always started.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for coming.”

She kisses his forehead and squeezes him tightly again. Something has changed, something has shifted. Daggoo may be gone, but Scully is here, and for now, that’s enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a personal note, the "Mulder" section of this chapter is the closest to my heart of all the chapters in this story. We never really see the moment Scully starts to let Mulder back in, and I love the idea that a dog brought them back together, in a way.
> 
> To read about what happens to Daggoo, you can go [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17563376)


	18. RECONNECTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One thing she’s certain of is that she’s more comfortable now being with him than she is being apart. There’s not much he needs to do for her to fall in love with him all over again. They are on the verge. Now she believes it’s a matter of when, not if."

  ** _RECONNECTION_ **

 

**SCULLY**

**(This)**

 

Things have been changing for the better for the first time in a long time. After years of being without him she’d almost become numb to the idea of ever going back to the life they’d had before everything went to shit.

But life has been moving the two of them along at a pleasant click; it’s almost like it was before he was abducted all those years ago, at least as far as their professional relationship is concerned. She feels oddly comfortable doing the very thing she tried so hard to escape for so long. It irks her a bit that she’s here again and actually enjoying it, but that makes her happy in spite of herself.

She and Mulder are in a different place now, and she’s starting to have enough distance from the bad times to appreciate that. Time really does heal wounds, as she always suspected it might, although she’s aware some wounds may leave scars that will never heal completely.

The strangest thing happened back when her mother died; although it broke her heart in a way she knew it would, as she sat on that log with Mulder, the small jar that contained her mother’s remains at her feet, she felt a blessing she hadn’t expected. It was as if Maggie had given her one final gift: further confirmation of how short life is, and what she needed to do before it was over for her as well. It was helping her start to let go of the past, so she could appreciate more of her future.

_My son is named William, too._

Her mother’s words had taken her by surprise because the two of them never spoke of William. She’d allowed the loss to hang over them, never talking about it. But her words also surprised her because she had said them not to her, but to Mulder. Her final words were spoken to Mulder.

In the end, Mulder was Maggie’s family too. Perhaps she’d always hoped they’d reunite. Scully took comfort in this idea.

William had been her priority over Mulder for a long time, and he wasn’t even in her life anymore. He hadn’t been for such a long time that even her own memories of him were beginning to fade. She knew it was only a memory, or an idea of something that might have been, that had taken over her world and not relinquished its grasp. The notion that such an intangible thing had this much power over her was frightening.

When she’d given up her baby she hadn’t anticipated the ripple effect such an action would have, and how could she? She hadn’t fully realized at the time that being a mother isn’t something you can give back, something you can leave behind. She was a mother without a child. This became her identity. And it had colored everything around her, including her relationship with Mulder.

She still often thinks of her son, and the life she’s missed. She wonders whose eyes he has; are they still hers? Or have they changed, as babies’ do, to look more like Mulder’s? Is he a rebel or does he follow the rules? Does he like science or is he more of a dreamer?

She’s learning to wonder these things like she always has, but with joy and hope instead of sorrow. She’s starting to come to a place of acceptance rather than grief. If she can get there then maybe, just maybe she can let him go. She truly believes if she can do this, she and Mulder will get to a better place as well.

In the meantime she’s doing what she can to begin again with him. One thing she’s certain of is that she’s more comfortable now being with him than she is being apart. There’s not much he needs to do for her to fall in love with him all over again. They are on the verge. Now she believes it’s a matter of when, not if.

“Can I use your shower?” she asks him one evening in their unremarkable house.

“ _Our_ shower, and of course you can,” he replies pointedly as he peruses some work they'd brought home with them. He doesn’t smile because he’s not making a joke, he’s stating a fact and she knows it. She may have left this place years ago but it’s still their home to him. Maybe it always will be to her too.

They’ve been spending a lot of time here lately; he had insisted keeping her close to him ever since she was attacked and nearly strangled to death in her hospital room. The event had shaken her far more than many other near-death experiences she’d had, so she’d indulged him in his request.

She knows what would have happened had Mulder not been there. Knowing she was about to die and seeing him act in that way had gotten her thinking. There was no hesitation, no time for questions. No time for answers the old Mulder may have sought. It wasn’t about the quest, not anymore. It was only about her. She was his family and he would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

When it came right down to it, she was his highest priority and he was showing her with his actions. Seeing the worry etched into his face, the fear that he’d almost lost her yet again, was enough to make her start believing, really believing, in them again.

For the first time in a long time she’s actually okay with him wanting to take care of her, so she’s allowing his protective streak some breathing room. He’s trying to win her back and she knows it. She can’t help but like it.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks her as she mounts the staircase.

“Anything is fine, you want to do take out?”

“If anything is fine I’m going to make something for you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You? Are going to cook?”

“Don’t be so skeptical, Agent Scully,” he says as he starts opening and closing cupboards.

She is skeptical, very skeptical, but it’s so cute that he wants to cook for her she decides to play along.

“I eagerly await your culinary masterpiece,” she says as she heads upstairs.

After she showers and dries her hair she puts her clothes back on, attaching her holster to her belt. She doesn’t usually keep her weapon on her all the time but she’s been overly paranoid since her attack. She heads back downstairs and to her great surprise she hears music playing. Mulder is pouring tomato soup into two bowls, next to a couple grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. There’s a candle in the center of the table.

Her jaw drops. “Oh my God, Mulder.”

He looks at her like a wounded puppy. “No good?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s adorable. Look at you.”

He grins. “Is that a good thing? Adorable?”

“Yes, it is.” She’s impressed by his efforts. Mulder made a mean scrambled egg back when they lived together but that was the extent of his cooking capabilities. As for everything else, the music and the candlelight… _wow_. It isn’t that his capacity for romance is surprising, it was actually something he’d been very good at back when things were good. But this is the first time since they broke up that he’s made an effort like this, with such obvious intent. She feels something involuntarily stir inside her that she cannot ignore.

“Well, have a seat, Scully. This is four-star.”

She smiles at him, and feels herself pulled to him in spite of herself, like a magnet. She likes this, she likes all of it. She can’t help it.

They sit together at their kitchen table and eat, like the hundreds of other times they did before tonight. George Harrison sings softly in the background.

 

_Let me in here_

_I know I’ve been here_

_Let me into your heart_

 

“Adorable.” He looks at her and his eyes narrow. “I can live with that. At least you didn’t say ‘adorbs.’”

“‘Adorbs?’ Is that… a thing?”

“Apparently?” He takes a bite of his sandwich. “I’ve been learning some new lingo. Trying to keep up with the youth.” His mouth is full and he says it like “yoof.” Some things never change.

“Ah,” she replies. “Does this mean you’re taking selfies and tweeting, too?”

“No. I _can’t even_ with that stuff, Scully.”

She smiles, chuckling. He’s still funny, to her. Humor is something she’s missed a lot in general over the past few years, but particularly his brand.

She takes a bite of her sandwich. It’s good.

 

_Let me know you_

_Let me show you_

_Let me grow upon you_

 

“Still haven’t replaced this table, I see?” she asks, sitting back in her chair.

She looks at the crack in the wood for a moment, then suddenly the memory of how it got there stirs and she can’t help but look at him and make a face.

“Never,” he grins.

She knows he’s thinking about it now too, about how she’d come home from work one night in a really good mood and he’d been particularly amorous and they ended up on top of the table. They'd been so caught up in the moment they weren’t able to stop it from toppling over, depositing them both in a giggling heap and leaving the telltale crack on the corner. She’d hurt her back but it had been entirely worth it.

 _Fair enough,_ she thinks. After the awfulness of how everything fell apart, she can’t imagine how it must have been for him to live here alone, in this house full of memories. Every room, every crack held a story like this. Perhaps holding onto these memories of the happy times had been a good thing for him, rather than bad.

He grins and his eyebrows go up. “Do you remember that time you cuffed me to the staircase and I was still somehow able to get your clothes off with one hand?”

Her face flushes. Oh, she remembers.

“I do remember. Pretty sure you got something else off, too.”

 _This is fine, this is fun,_ she thinks. _Just taking a trip down memory lane. No harm in that._

“Uh huh,” he replies, smiling like a cheshire cat. “That was the night we broke the stairs, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, but you fixed them, Mulder.”

“I guess I did. I had to.”

“You could have gotten a new kitchen table, though.”

“If I replaced this table, that would mean I’d have to replace the coffee table, the armchair upstairs, the crack in the shower tile, the porch swing-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she laughs. “We really weren’t very careful, were we?”

“We certainly weren’t,” he says, very pointedly. “I know I wasn’t.”

She does not miss the subtext and looks down at her bowl of soup.

“Neither was I,” she admits.

They eat quietly for a minute.

 

_All I have is yours_

_All you see is mine_

_And I’m glad to hold you in my arms_

_I’d have you anytime_

 

She tries to ignore the song, but it’s hard. All of this feels really good and even if it’s just for right now she lets it in.

“I like this song,” she says.

“I remember,” he smiles.

“This is really nice, Mulder. Thank you for doing this.”

His eyes go soft. “You’re welcome.”

They sit there quietly for a bit.

“I don’t know if I ever even apologized for hurting you, Scully. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything now, but I am sorry.”

She looks up and gives him a warm smile. The anger and hurt she had felt towards him and towards their entire situation dissipated a long time ago. All that really remains now is uncertainty. She doesn’t quite know how to communicate that to him. Still, it’s nice to hear.

She can’t help but feel a small wave of sadness wash over her, this inability to talk to him, really talk to him, is something she doesn’t like.

“It means something. I’m sorry too.” She isn’t exactly sure what either of them are apologizing for anymore but she’s glad all the same. Every little step is a step in the right direction.

He reaches his hand across the table and she takes it. They look at each other for a moment, something small that feels so huge lifted off their shoulders. He squeezes her hand and starts to rub the back of her thumb with his. The effect is electric and she feels a chill run down her spine. She’s amazed that such a simple touch between them can still be so magnetic after all these years.

“Jesus, Mulder,” she says in a soft voice.

“We’ve still got it, huh?” he replies, smiling. They sit and gaze at each other like they used to, the music echoing softly against the walls of the house. _Their_ house. It’s really, really nice. Without meaning to, they’ve opened the door for the topic of their relationship to slip in but she can’t decide if she really wants to talk about it. Maybe subconsciously she does. They’ve already been holding hands and gazing at each other and talking about their sexcapades so it seems like this is just the way the evening is going.

In any event, she breaks the spell first. “Don’t we still have some work to do?”

She releases his hand and gets up. She feels relaxed enough to take her weapon off her belt and sets it on the table.

“I think so? The files are on the coffee table.”

“You mean the _broken_ coffee table?” She can’t help herself. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing. Everything about this feels so good, she just wants it to continue.

“It’s not _broken,_ Scully. Just a little… wobbly.”

“Wobbly?”

“Yeah, wobbly.” He leers at her. “Kinda like you were after I was finished.”

She smirks. _God damn._ Maybe this is more dangerous than she thought. Maybe she kind of likes it.

She wants to get him back for that one, it’s only fair. But now she truly worries if this goes on much longer they’ll probably be adding another crack to the kitchen table and she’s not quite ready for that.

Not yet, at least.

So she looks him in the eye and allows her tongue to roll over her lower lip thoughtfully. She rarely does it with intention but she knows damn well he likes it. The way his eyebrows reach new heights lets her know she’s won this round.

She turns, heads to the couch and then hears his voice again. “Let’s save the work for tomorrow, huh? I’m not in the mood to burn the midnight oil.” He turns the music off and leans forward to blow the candle out, moving it to the counter.

She had just picked up one of the files they were working on and sets it back down. “Yeah, okay.”

She collapses onto the couch and Mulder follows suit, removing his phone from his pocket and setting it on the couch between them.

He picks up the TV remote and flips the channel a few times until _Truth Squad With Tad O’Malley_ pops onto the screen. The headline “President Trump Tweets Daycare Workers Should Be Armed” crawls across the bottom of the screen.

“This fucking guy,” Mulder grumbles.

“You know, he asked me out. We kind of went on a date.”

He gapes at her. “Donald Trump? What the fuck, Scully?”

“No!” she laughs. A huge, rolling laugh she hasn’t let him see in years. “No. _No._ I mean Tad O’Malley.”

Mulder’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? _That_ guy _?”_

“It wasn’t a love connection,” she admits. The opportunity to get a rise out of him had been far too tempting.

“But… that guy was nuts, Scully.”

She looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “Yes, he was. Apparently I have a type.”

He rolls his eyes, acknowledging the jab, but presses on. “This country has gone off the deep end, and guys like that aren’t helping.”

She sighs. “You can say that again.”

“Okay but I won’t, because I’d rather not talk about Tad O’Malley now, and probably not ever again.”

She tries to think of some way to change the subject, but she’s stumped. Anyway, Mulder isn’t done.

“I can’t believe you went out with that guy,” he says, shaking his head. Apparently he does want to keep talking about this. He’s kidding, but she can tell he’s a little annoyed.

“If it’s any consolation, all he really wanted to talk about was you,” she admits.

He makes a face. “Well, I guess I’m glad I ruined your _date_.”

He isn’t joking after all. She can see in his face he’s hurt. He really didn’t want to hear about her dating life. She was only trying to have a little fun, she never planned on upsetting him. The evening had been so pleasant, everything felt so comfortable. She hadn’t intended things to turn serious.

“There wasn’t really anything to ruin. It would never have worked out. I was just… blowing off steam, I guess.” She can tell the wheels are turning in his mind, that maybe he knows she was blowing off steam at the time because of him. “I’m sure you had to do it, too, on occasion.” She’s fishing and she knows it. She’s dying to know.

He stares straight ahead and shakes his head no.

She tilts her head skeptically. “Oh, come on. How many?”

Still not looking at her, he holds his hand up with his fingers forming a zero.

_Zero._

She’d wanted to believe it all these years. She hadn’t been with anyone else, either. She’d been on a few dates with a few men but could never quite get there with anyone. At a certain point she knew she was only doing it to prove something to herself, to prove she was over him. But somewhere along the way she knew: she’d never been over him. 

“Did you even… try?”

He shrugs. “Try what? To get over you?” He finally looks her in the eye.

“Well… yeah.”

She suddenly feels an overwhelming wave of melancholy wash over her. How sad he must have been this entire time, how lonely. She’d known it, somewhat; she was lonely too. But seeing his face right now, hearing him admit this to her, just makes her sad. Not out of pity; out of empathy. They’ve spent so much of their lives being lonely.

She doesn't want to be lonely. She wishes this was easier. She wishes a lot of things.

“I can’t do the impossible,” is all he says. He’s not trying to flirt, or be cute. He’s being completely serious.

She doesn’t know what to say to this, so she turns back to the television. He flips some more channels until a _Ramones Behind the Music_ comes up. He looks at her and she nods. He sets the remote down on the table and they both kick their feet up onto the wobbly coffee table and watch silently for a few minutes.

His hand is beside him, next to his phone, and hers is so close they are almost touching. The centimeter between them is on fire. She can’t believe the intensity of this, how this is making her feel. It’s like she’s thirteen and they’re at the movies. It’s like she’s eighteen and they’re about to have sex for the first time.

It’s like she’s twenty eight, in the FBI basement office, and she’s finally met the man she’s going to be with for the rest of her life.

He must be thinking the same thing because his hand is suddenly covering her own, and before she knows how it happened her fingers have interlocked with his. She feels butterflies she hasn’t felt for twenty years.

After a while, she notices he’s fallen asleep on the couch next to her. She picks up the remote and mutes the television so she can listen to him breathing. For just a moment she watches him, listens to him, and pretends they’re something they are not.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

**(Plus One)**

 

 

 

They haven’t been this close in years and he feels as if he may even be dreaming. He’s still behind her, right behind her like always, but his arms are around her this time, finally. She’s in his bed, in his arms, and they are talking about the future.

In the fucked up, half-jointed, stumbling way they usually do, but still.

He remembers not so long ago when his hands were on her shoulders and she let him in on a little bit of her own regret. It had given him hope, but she was still facing away from him, her back to him. Like so many lonely nights in their own bed at home when she thought he didn’t see her anymore, she’d turn away. Not like she used to when things were good. In those times, she’d let him see her face, their smiles mirroring one another, eyes locked, truly seeing each other like they did when they were only just partners learning to understand one another.

“What if we lose our jobs?” she asks him softly.

“Then what’ll we do?”

He feels her turn around in the sofa bed to face him and she looks into his eyes, smiling. For the first time in years they are finally on the same page.

“We’ll think of something,” she says playfully, and it’s enough for him to know her intentions. It’s something she used to say to him back when they were on the run, moving from town to town, from motel to motel.

_What are we going to do with all this free time?_

_We’ll think of something._

Sex had been all they really had to do, and they’d gotten really good at it. Knowing what she liked and how she liked it had become his new obsession at the time. Scully was never one for obsessions but the way she’d learned his own body was admirable even for a medical doctor.

Together they were good, they were really good.

Now as she reaches over and traces his jawline with her finger, even in the dark he can see in her eyes what she wants. There have been countless times in their relationship she’s been the one to take over and be in control, but this time he can tell she wants it to be him. She wants him to change them this time.

He wraps his leg around her hip and pulls her in close, tips her chin up to his and their lips touch for the first time in so very long. His sensory memory recognizes her taste, her scent, as if not a day has passed.

He runs his fingers through her long hair, hair she alway kept long when she could because she knew he loved it so much. He’d told her before it reminded him of when they first met, back when she’d been only a fantasy. Seeing her growing it out again over the past several months had given him a subliminal hope, that maybe she was doing it for him. He likes to think so, anyway.

She threads her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and for a few minutes they both just live in the warmth and comfort of familiarity, of each other, of this kiss they’ve both been waiting so long to share. He feels such reprieve in this moment, like a wandering nomad in the desert having finally found an oasis.

Four years, seven months, twenty six days since the last time they were together. How has he lived this entire time?

He hasn’t lived. He’s merely survived. She is the only one who can bring him back to life.

He wouldn’t mind kissing her forever but tonight there will be no excruciating slow burn; they are different now, they have grown. He rolls her onto her back without breaking contact and begins to unbutton her pajama top. Her hands go to the bottom of his tank top and she begins to tug on it but he pulls away and gently stops her. He suddenly has a strong desire to make this all about her. She looks confused and is about to say something but he stops her with his mouth, and she takes the hint.

He wants to make her understand. He wants to make her believe in him again.

He sits back on his haunches and looks at her. Just a few hours ago she was asking him if he thought of her as old. He couldn’t say then that his dick certainly didn’t think so, even though it was exactly what he’d been thinking.

He truly believes he’s never looked at anything so goddamn beautiful before, and he wants her to know he thinks that.

“How can you not know how beautiful you are, Scully? You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

She closes her eyes and smiles. Even though he’s telling her the god’s honest truth he can’t help but feel like he scored a point, and any hope she gives him for reconciliation he will gladly accept.

The very last time they’d made love was burned into his brain, even though they had already lost sight of each other at that point. He’d thought about it constantly in the months following her departure so he could keep the memory strong. It had still been amazing. Even when their minds wouldn’t agree, their bodies always would.

He’s ready to have her back. He was ready the day she left him. He knows he has to wait until she is, too, but he will wait as long as it takes. He’s done it before.

He wants to kiss her everywhere he can, and that starts out as his plan, beginning at her neck, and moving slowly down her body, but he can’t wait for very long before he’s got her legs up over his shoulders and is making good use of his lifelong oral fixation. He doesn’t have to work very hard because soon he hears her moaning and knows yet another search for truth has been vindicated. He loves to hear that sound more than anything.

Her hands go to the top of his head and she digs her fingernails into his scalp as she screams out his favorite “Mulder” on the list. He’s waited so long to hear it again. It was worth every damn minute.

She’s breathing heavily as he pulls the sheet back up over her body. He kisses her forehead then rests his head on her chest. She continues running her hands through his hair and he can feel her calm. She then says his name once more, quietly.

“ _Mulder_ …”

It’s a new “Mulder,” a different one. He hears about a dozen emotions wrapped into the single word. He could name them all if he wanted to, but he hears the one that matters most and that’s enough.

He smiles and lays there for a couple minutes, closing his eyes. Her heart is beating so fast. He’s perfectly prepared to fall asleep right here and now but then he feels a tapping on his shoulder blade and lifts his face up to look at her. Her eyes narrow and she raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think for a second we’re finished.”

He grins and pushes up onto his forearms, pressing his lips to hers as she smiles widely, her fingers in his hair, then trailing down his back, to the waistband of his boxers.

Making her scream out his name again after so many years was its own reward but he’s certainly not going to put up a fight.

 

 

***

 

 

The manager has called twice, and actually come knocking once. It’s an hour past checkout. He’s not sure if it’s their tardiness or the noise, but he doesn’t care.

Truth was, he’d been absolutely exhausted when they’d returned to the motel from wrapping up their case. He knew she was, too. So the fact that they are lying here together now must mean something, something important.

He lays naked with her in bed, their bodies entangled in a way they haven’t been for so long. Besides last night, that is. Last night had been slow, romantic, familiar, like they were finding their way home again.

This morning, though… _wow_. It hadn’t been like _that_ in longer than he can even remember.

_If you need anything, you just call me?_

_I can’t imagine that I will,_ she’d responded.

He knew that look, though. He’d seen it a million times. He knew if he waited by the door long enough she would open it this time.

And open it, she did. She was the same Scully he remembered in his old apartment all those years ago, when she crossed the room without hesitation and showed him exactly what she wanted. He loved her then, and he loves her now.

This feels like home to him, her finger lazily drawing circles on his chest, his hand combing through her hair. He smiles as he thinks of her Freudian slip earlier in the week when she’d referred to the house as “our home.” Maybe she feels the same way.

“I’ve really missed this, Scully,” he tells her. He has no reason not to be honest with her.

“Me too.”

“Can we… can we talk about us?”

She pauses. “I’m not ready.”

He’s silent. One thing he’s always been able to pride himself on is being able to shut the fuck up when she wants him to.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Mulder. I do and I will. Just not right now.”

It’s never right now, it’s always more waiting. But they’ve taken another huge step, so he’s content to wait.

In response, he pulls her on top of him so her body is covering his, her head resting just below his chin. He quietly brushes her shoulder blades with his thumbs and just holds her. It’s times like this he’s grateful for their height difference; when he holds her this way they fit together so perfectly.

His heart aches that she won’t talk to him. They’ve never been the best at communication when it comes to matters of the heart, a small sacrifice he’d been willing to make since they were _so_ good at matters of the brain. They always felt it, they just had trouble conveying it.

Last night felt like a start, but it reminded him of the conversation they’d had back in Kroner so many years ago when neither of them could really say what they actually meant. Instead they’d talked in circles, hovering around the point but never actually reaching it.

When she’d presented the possibility he might find someone else, actually choose someone else over her, he’d physically recoiled. It wasn’t something he ever even considered. He wondered how she spent all those years apart; even if she’d been busy trying to find some other person who could replace his role in her life, he sure as shit wasn’t. So he hedged a bit with his response.

As confusing as he found her line of questioning, he knew she wouldn’t have said any of it unless she truly meant it. As hard as it is for either of them to broach a difficult subject, he truly felt the weight of her words in that moment. They rarely talked about children, her infertility, William, any of it; it had always been just too painful. And when she’d mentioned the idea of him having more children with someone else, he felt so strange… like there was something else she’d meant to say but hadn’t said it.

_At the risk of sounding insensitive, what’s stopping you?_

He wonders at his own question. He’s not stupid, he knows the likelihood of Scully having more children of her own is right around zero. But sensitivity be damned, he wanted to know. If she’d wanted more children after having to give up theirs, she could have found a way. She would have found a way.

_It’s me. I am what’s stopping her. The children she wants to have are the children she would have had with me._

He knows it, she knows it, they both know it. So why can’t they just say it?

He had the life he wanted with her, and didn’t realize it was exactly what he wanted until he’d lost her. Now he can admit to himself she may have been right, that he had some growing up to do. He now knows he doesn’t have to change who he is to be the person she needs; he never did. He just needed to come to understand that. He understands it now, more clearly than he ever has.

_Sometimes I think the world is going to hell and we’re the only two people who can save it._

She was right about that. One thing he does know is that they are the only two people who can save their own worlds from going to hell. Hopefully they stop wasting time soon.

“I’m really glad there ended up being no more room at the inn,” she says as she snuggles close to him.

He chuckles. “We ought to leave the manager a thank you card.”

“And a very big apology gift basket,” she laughs.

“I really needed that, Scully. I needed you.”

She doesn’t stop herself from being honest with him. “I did too. It’s been too long.”

It’s not everything he wants, but it’s still music to his ears. He knows there’s hope.

She pushes herself up on her hands, her hair falling into his face, and looks into his eyes.

“I’m not ready to come home yet, Mulder. But I am ready to start trying.”

Her smile is so tender, so genuine. He touches her cheek and looks into her eyes, hoping she can tell how much he loves her with one look. He lifts his face up to hers and they kiss, softly at first but soon she’s straddling him, ready for round three.

He wonders how they’ll explain the late checkout charge on their expense report, then promptly forgets about it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the glory of Season 11 Mulder. I imagine they began to turn up the heat before "This" because I'm not sure how else to explain the crazy MSR shift between these two episodes. But let's try not to question it, shall we?
> 
> I debated putting the song in here but the romantic in me (and I imagine in Mulder) won. It seems like such a song they would have both enjoyed. Also the lyrics encapsulate what he’s feeling at this particular moment.
> 
> (Related: Scully's favorite Beatle is George, Mulder's is John. Fight me.)
> 
> “I’d Have You Anytime”
> 
> lyrics by George Harrison and Bob Dylan
> 
> Let me in here, I know I've been here  
> Let me into your heart  
> Let me know you, let me show you  
> Let me roll it to you
> 
> All I have is yours  
> All you see is mine  
> And I'm glad to hold you in my arms  
> I'd have you anytime
> 
> Let me say it, let me play it  
> Let me lay it on you  
> Let me know you, let me show you  
> Let me grow upon you
> 
> All I have is yours  
> All you see is mine  
> And I'm glad to hold you in my arms  
> I'd have you anytime
> 
> Let me in here, I know I've been here  
> Let me into your heart
> 
> Dialogue from "Home Again" written by Glen Morgan.  
> Dialogue from "Plus One" written by Chris Carter.


	19. RECONCILIATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Finally, he decides it’s time to stop dancing around this. He loves her, and she loves him, and why are they doing this? What are they waiting for? Why is she holding back? Why doesn’t she realize that every second they spend wading around in ambivalence is another precious second gone, spent, discarded forever? He wants to stop time, like they did all those years ago on their very first case together, but he can't. If only he could make her see, they don't have forever, this won't last forever. Nothing will."

**RECONCILIATION**

 

**SCULLY**

**(Familiar)**

 

It’s been a rough week. Any time she encounters the death of a child, be it inside the walls of the hospital or on a case with the FBI, it’s difficult for Scully. It would be difficult for anyone.

She can’t help but think of William. She thinks of him every day, but today it’s harder, and Mulder must feel it too. Ever since they discovered the identity and location of their long-lost son, they’ve begun to finally open up to each other bit by bit, sharing the pain they’ve been unable to for years.

Everything between she and Mulder finally feels so good, so familiar. It’s almost as if they’re themselves again; they just aren’t really _talking_ about it. She’s reminded of how it was the first time, when everything felt so good, so right, but they were both holding back how they truly felt about each other. It feels like that again now, the only difference is that she knows they love each other. She _knows_ he loves her, and she knows she loves him. So what’s holding her back?

She can hardly believe it, but it seems that in the eternity they spent apart Mulder has grown. He’s traded in his obsession for what feels like a genuine desire to have a life, with her. All those years ago when he promised her he’d make her happy and did the very best he could, he’d seemed to lose himself along with that promise. That was never what she wanted. It’s never what she asked him for. But it happened all the same.

He’s finding himself again, and she’s seeing him do it every day. She doesn’t think of it in a condescending way, but a hopeful way. He’s not changing; he’s just remembering who he is.

He is the man she fell in love with, once again.

She knew it when he offered to take Daggoo for her without a second thought. She knew it when he’d made her grilled cheese by candlelight. She knew it that night on assignment, in that pull-out sofa bed, when their bodies fit together in that perfect way they did all those years ago. She knew it the night they’d met Reggie in the parking garage; it was their first official “date” and he’d worn the suit he married her in. Maybe he didn’t think she’d noticed, but she had.

She wants him back now, too. She wants him in the same way she did all those years ago, the same way she knows deep down she has since the day she left him. She knows she does, she just doesn't know why she can't tell him. It seems like everything has finally fallen into place, but she still can't tell him. Technically, they’re still married, and they’re living in the same house again. They’re back together, but they aren’t, not really. It’s starting to feel inevitable, but at the same time unfinished. She still feels bound by unfinished business. She wishes she knew exactly what that business was.

After what felt like an hour long shower, she’s exhausted but relieved to have washed that case off her, for now. She gets into her sweatpants, puts on one of Mulder’s T-shirts and goes downstairs to sit on the couch.

 _Their_ couch.

Regardless of what their relationship status is, she may as well consider herself a permanent resident of their home again. She hadn’t even asked Mulder if she could move back in; after the fireplace exploded in her rented condo they both knew what would come next. It feels unfair that circumstance keeps pushing them forward rather than their own choices, but she supposes that’s what happens when she delays like this.

He’s holding two mugs and walking towards her. “Feel better?” he asks her.

“Much. What have you got there?”

“Just some tea, I thought you could use some.”

She’s grateful for the gesture. “Thanks, I could.”

He sinks down onto the couch beside her. She sips the tea. It’s peppermint. She smiles because this is her favorite, not his. Over the past few days he’s stocked the kitchen with everything she liked when they lived together. He’d always been pretty thoughtful when they were a couple, as far as men go, but she appreciates it even more now.

He gestures at her. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Is that okay? I like how soft it is.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just something… the old you would do.”

She’s taken aback. “The old me? What do you mean?”

He sighs and leans back into the couch, his arm across the back. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I just miss… this. That’s all. I miss us.”

He’s been so honest with her over the past few weeks. It’s been refreshing, she has to admit. He was never so open about his feelings before. He certainly didn’t hold back when he wanted to get something important across, but he still had his guard up at times. The guard posted at the Gates of Mulder seems to have retreated a long time ago, and she’s been so distracted and frustrated she’s hardly noticed.

“I _am_ right here, you know,” she says quietly.

He turns to look at her. His eyes are soft, welcoming, calm. It’s such a nice feeling she’s almost ready to give in to him completely. But then, his eyes change, and lock into hers.

“What the hell are we doing, Scully?” he asks, softly.

She lets his words sink in. She really wishes she knew. She wants to scream because she doesn’t know what it is she’s waiting for. Instead, she leans her head against the back of the couch against his hand and closes her eyes.

“I don’t know, Mulder.”

“Okay.” He plays with her hair a bit. “Scully.”

She turns to look at him.

“I want you back,” he says simply. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes filling with tears. His loyalty to her has never wavered, not even when she gave up on him. At times it almost leaves her breathless. At times she doesn’t even feel worthy of it. She thinks of him in so many moments when he’s shown her the love and support she’d almost taken for granted, moments she knew he’d be there, and it breaks her heart to know how much she hurt him.

She has to say what’s on her mind, she has to. He’s being so open with her, she knows he deserves every bit of honesty she can give him.

“Mulder, did I ruin your only chance to be a father?”

He looks stunned, stops messing with her hair. He wasn’t expecting this at all.

“What?”

It’s a question she’s wanted to ask him for years but was too afraid to hear the answer. She sits up, faces him. “When I gave up our son for adoption. Please, please be honest with me. It’s been killing me inside.” No matter how she tries, she can’t stop the tears from falling. “It’s been eating away at me. It’s breaking my heart.”

She thinks of the little boy in the woods, the tiny yellow slicker and rain boots lying on the cold forest floor, an innocent life cut short. Those little paper hearts, one after another after another. The tiny, malformed infant tossed into a mud puddle in Home, Pennsylvania. Poor Emily and all her pain and suffering.

Then, the sight of Mulder, holding their baby in her bedroom and smiling at her as if their world had only just begun.

The images flood her mind with grief and terror and hopelessness and before she even realizes it he’s holding her in his arms and she is sobbing, sobbing uncontrollably.

_Imagine all a mother’s hopes and dreams for her child, then nature turn so cruel. What must a mother go through?_

What, indeed?

“Sweetheart…” he’s stroking her hair and holding her tightly. It’s not a nickname he uses for her. She’s not sure where it’s coming from but she can hear the raw emotion, his voice breaking as he starts to cry, too.

“No, never. I’ve never thought that, ever. Please don’t cry, Scully.”

She can’t remember the last time she cried like this in front of him. Maybe she never has. Seventeen years of grief and doubt and sadness come pouring out of her in the presence of the only other person on the planet who could possibly understand. Her pain leaving her body and flowing into his, like osmosis. Her fingernails digging into his back as she clings to him desperately.

“For so long I was afraid you resented me for it. I hated how that made me feel. I didn’t know what else to do,” she sobs. “I was so lost, I was so terrified, I missed you so much. I needed you and I’d sent you away. I didn’t know what to do, Mulder.”

She then tells him what she’s feared for years, what she’s been too afraid to face herself.

“I’m so certain every single day I made a terrible mistake and ruined everything. That your depression, our breakup, everything was my fault. It was all because of me and what I did.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just holding her. She’s shaking and she knows he has to feel it. They’ve never talked about this, ever. Finally, he speaks.

“You don’t deserve to feel this way. You told me back when it happened you were afraid I’d never forgive you, Scully. I should have told you then there was nothing to forgive. I should have told you whenever you needed to hear it. I should have told you every day I’d be there for you no matter what. I didn’t, and for that I’m more sorry than I can say.”

She can’t even understand what’s happening. She’s begging for his forgiveness and he’s apologizing to her… for what?

“I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t,” he continues. “I was so stupid, I was _so_ stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid, you only did what I asked you to do, and then you never even had a choice about what happened to our son.”

“I _was_ stupid, Scully. I cared too much about things that just didn’t matter. The way I behaved… when it should have been you I cared about most. It should have been you above everything else.”

He holds her face with both hands and kisses her forehead. “I should have known how much this would weigh on you all these years. You’d gone through so much already and you had to give up your chance to be a parent.”

“But I gave up your only chance too, and you stayed with me, you stayed even though I could never give you another chance. Why? Why would you do that, Mulder? How could you not be angry with me? How can you not hate me for what I did?”

He takes her face in his hands and looks at her.

“How can you not know why, Scully? I am in this with you. _You._ I am in it forever, no matter what you may do, or say, or feel. This is never going to be over for me, ever. And as for giving up a chance to be a father? I could never be one without you.”

She looks into his eyes through her tears. She’s needed to hear all of this so much. “I feel like I made that decision for you. It hurts me to know that.”

“Remember when you asked what would happen if I met someone else who wanted to have kids?”

She nods, remembering that night and everything it had meant. That night that brought them here, together now.

“I didn’t tell you at the time, because I thought it was obvious. But maybe I do need to tell you. Scully. That will never happen. It was always you. It’s always going to be you. And hey, if that means no kids? Look at me.” She can’t stop crying. “Your experience is my experience. Your loss is my loss. Your burden is my burden. That’s the way it’s always going to be.”

The knowledge that he’s never felt the need to forgive her for anything, has never resented her for this, has her so relieved. How much time she spent needlessly suffering, when she should have just told him how she felt when she felt it. They’ve sacrificed so many things to external forces, but they never counted on the sacrifices they’d make because of their own inability to communicate.

She wants to kiss him and let him wipe the tears from her eyes and tell him she loves him and she can’t live another minute in this limbo. But something is holding her back. She still can’t understand what’s holding her back.

He continues. “If this is what’s upsetting you, if this is why you can’t let me in again, please let yourself off the hook, Scully. You have to forgive yourself. For you, for me… for everything.”

He looks her square in the face, both their eyes glistening with tears.

“And please... don’t feel guilty for making the decision about William alone. You were never alone. I was always right there with you. No matter what choice you made, it would have been the right one. Because I trust you. I will always trust in you.”

She falls into him, trying to control her breathing. The emptiness William left them both permeates the air for a moment and they just hold each other and cry.

She needed this. He needed this. They needed this together.

She shudders, her tears starting to subside. “I wish we’d had this conversation years ago.” She’s so tired of regret, so tired of allowing the past to control her. She wants to move forward, desperately.

“Scully…” he whispers. It’s only one word, but she somehow understands everything he means to convey.

After a few minutes she takes a deep breath, and they both lean back into the couch, his arms still around her, their faces side by side.

“Why did this have to happen, Mulder? Why do these things have to happen to us?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t know. The darkness always seems to find us, Scully. I don’t know how to stop it. I want to stop it, for you. I wish I knew how. I wish _that_ was something I could search for.”

They’re still for a moment. “I do know that we’re here now, together. And we’re alive. That’s something,” he points out.

“I understand now,” she says suddenly. “After all these years I really understand what you went through when Samantha disappeared. Not knowing where William was, if he was even alive. If he was happy. I never knew.”

“We still don’t, not really.”

She closes her eyes.

“He was our miracle. Yours and mine. I always believed we’d somehow see him again. I always hoped…” she trails off.

“I believed we would, too.”

“I want to let him go. I need to let him go, Mulder.”

Mulder sighs. “Maybe we just aren’t meant to be parents, Scully. Maybe these identities we’ve taken on are meaningless. As much as I’d like to find him again, maybe it’s just not meant to be. Letting him go might be all we can do.”

“Do you feel like a father?” It’s a question she’s never had the courage to ask him but she’s dying to know.

He pauses, considering. “Yes. In the same way I feel like a brother. In the same way I’m still a son.”

She wonders if that’s the place she needs to get to. She wonders if she will ever get there.

All she can do is close her eyes and sit here with him, this man she knows she loves more than anything in the whole world. This man she still can’t seem to let in completely, when she knows how much she needs him. He’s done everything she could have possibly asked of him, and she never even asked him to do it. He did it all on his own. The Mulder she fell in love with so many years ago… here he is, right next to her. On their couch. In their home.

He’s returned to her.

Suddenly she is physically and emotionally drained. All she wants to do is sleep. “Thank you for talking to me, Mulder. I think I want to go to bed now.”

He nods as she stands. She sees a hint of disappointment in his eyes, as if he thought something official might finally happen tonight. She wants it to, but her emotions are in a whirlwind and she just needs to rest.

“Are you coming?” she asks.

He’s been sleeping on the couch most nights since she’s moved back in out of courtesy, but not every night. He looks pleased tonight will be one of those nights. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Just gonna clean this up.” He picks up their mugs and heads into the kitchen and Scully ascends the stairs.

Just now she starts to realize something. The problem isn’t Mulder. It hasn’t been for a long time. The problem is _her_. She’s been choosing loneliness, again. Nothing is holding her back but herself.

When Mulder joins her in their bed, he wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead. “You gonna be okay?”

It’s the only thing that feels right, makes anything okay, being in his arms. She wonders how she’s managed these past few years without it; how she fooled herself into thinking she’d ever have an existence that wasn’t intimately tied to this man in every way.

He’s been so patient with her, so loving. She feels overwhelmed.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

He’s right. It’s time to let go, time to move forward. She’s ready.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

**(Nothing Lasts Forever)**

 

 

He’s been waiting so patiently. He will wait as long as she needs him to. He knows, he’s always known, that he’d never want to be anywhere other than by her side.

She’s never asked him for a divorce. The word has never come up between them. They are still married, legally and under the eyes of the God she believes in. Knowing this has always kept a flame of hope alive in his heart for all these years.

She’d asked him to pick her up after church, but he’s arrived early. He doesn’t believe in any of this, but she does, and he loves her more than he does his own cynicism. He approves of anything in this dark world that can bring the woman he loves so dearly some comfort.

_"Are we together?"_

Her words hang in the air. It’s the first time she’s asked him outright just what exactly is going on since they’d begun to reconcile.

“I believed I could protect our son, and I failed. I believed you and I could live together, and I fled.” She looks down, ashamed. “I gave up on that, too.”

Mulder looks at her with tenderness, and maybe a little regret. He thinks of the moment they shared in their office, when she stopped his back rub and gently took his hand and for the first time showed him a little of her own regret. He knows she wants to say something, that she's trying to say something, but isn't.

“If only you’d fled earlier,” he says. She searches his face for his meaning. “Do you know how many times I’ve envisioned that scenario? Where you left that basement office long ago? You’d have your health. Your dog.. your sister... you’d be Kersh’s boss, and be married to some brain surgeon and have a bunch of kids you wouldn't have to give up.”

He’s hinted at this regret before, but now is the time for transparency. If only she knew how much he just wants her to be happy, that even if it meant being without him, he’d take that deal, because her happiness is all that matters to him anymore.

“Mulder, I don’t begrudge you any of those things,” she tells him gently. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Finally, he decides it’s time to stop dancing around this. He loves her, and she loves him, and why are they doing this? What are they waiting for? Why is she holding back? Why doesn’t she realize that every second they spend wading around in ambivalence is another precious second gone, spent, discarded forever? He wants to stop time, like they did all those years ago on their very first case together, but he can't. If only he could make her see, they don't have forever, this won't last forever. Nothing will.

They’ve wasted too much time being afraid. He’s done living without her. He’s done with this state of uncertainty. He just wants it to end.

“Then what _are_ you talking about, Scully _?_ Because I don’t know if any God is listening but _I_ am standing right here and _I_ am listening. Right beside you.”

He needs her to hear him, he needs her to know he will always be right here. He wants her to tell him it’s okay to love her again.

“I’m all ears. That’s _my_ choice,” he finishes.

She looks into his eyes, like she’s done a million times, and at last he sees it. He sees what he’s been waiting for. He sees what she showed him the night they first made love in his apartment, the rain pounding outside, when all their walls came down. He sees the love that was in her eyes the night she named William, and they told each other the truth they’d been holding back for so long. He sees the same face that looked at him ten years ago when they stood in that courthouse and declared themselves each other’s for eternity.

He knows, he finally knows that she can’t wait anymore, either.

She leans in close and whispers into his ear:

_“For better or for worse._ _As long as we both shall live.”_

He looks into her eyes and understands.

“That’s not my four-year-old self praying for a miracle,” she says. “That’s my leap of faith forward, and I’d like to do it together.”

He nods. Their vows. 

“I always wondered how this was gonna end,” he says, relieved that the ambiguity of their situation has finally been resolved.

He lights one of the prayer candles, and takes her hand in his. “This one’s for you and me, and a new beginning.”

She leans against him and they just live in the moment, surrounded by dozens of candles representing so many hopes and dreams.

“Let’s get out of here, Mulder.”

He squeezes her hand and they start down the steps towards the aisle, towards the exit of the church. He thinks of the hundreds of couples who have walked down this very aisle together after declaring themselves forever joined. Scully had never suggested getting married in a church, probably because she knew it wasn’t something he would have wanted, but part of him feels that somehow this is right, that they are here right now. That they declared themselves to each other once again on her terms, on her turf, so to speak.

Once they walk through the doors and out into the spring morning air, he turns to her.

“I’m gonna get handsy with you now, Scully.”

She laughs and he gently but firmly backs her against the wall where his lips finally meet hers in certainty, in reprieve, in release. She reaches around him and pulls him in tighter, her hands at the back of his neck doing that thing he loves.

He feels overjoyed, complete. He feels free. They are finally back where they belong.

“I never stopped believing in you, Scully.” He kisses her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, while he tells her what he’s wanted to for months. For years. “Even when it felt like you were far away from me you were always there. I knew somehow, someday you’d come back.”

She smiles contentedly, eyes closed. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Mulder.”

She wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder. He can feel her heart beating against his own.

“My greatest fear has always been failing you,” she admits. “I'm the one who gave up on us when it got difficult. I realized too late that I hadn’t actually failed you until I’d given up on you.”

“But you were in the right, Scully. I was wrong. Even before things got bad and you told me you just wanted me to stay away from the darkness, to just stay with you, I didn’t listen. I didn’t hear you.”

She just holds him tighter. “We were both wrong, Mulder. About so many things.”

He knows they were, and they’ve both been through so much unnecessary loneliness that all he wants to do is take her home and show her how much he loves her, and allow her to do the same.

“If that’s true, we both made the wrong choice for a long time. Let’s make the right one now.”

She smiles and whispers again into his ear.

“Take me home, Mulder.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from "Nothing Lasts Forever" written by Karen Nielsen.


	20. EMANCIPATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "William is gripping her shoulder and her mind involuntarily flashes to all those years ago when he would do the same with much smaller hands, tucked into her breast as he fell asleep. In an instant, a hundred more images flash through her mind, a thousand moments she missed, a lifetime of memories that were never hers. And a truth that she can now plainly, painfully see.
> 
> He was never really hers. He isn’t her William, not anymore. There is no William. The truth is, there is only Jackson.
> 
> And Jackson wants her to let him go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been an extremely cathartic journey for me, and I'm so grateful to everyone who read it.
> 
> This chapter’s intent is to flesh out the existing story/ canon and make it a little more palatable. I’ve written an ending with the assumption we will be getting no more X Files, ever, which is a big assumption but if Gillian doesn’t return hopefully a correct one. We didn't really get an "ending" so this is how I would have ended the series, while sticking to every (unfortunate) word of canon. I tried to keep it as fitting to the tone of The X-Files as possible.
> 
> Dialogue from "My Struggle IV" written by Chris Carter.

  
**_EMANCIPATION_ **

  **(My Struggle IV)**

 

**JACKSON**

 

He’s been running for weeks. He’s so tired of running. He may be almost eighteen, but he’s still only a kid and he’s afraid.

He thinks of his parents, dead on the floor of his house, blood everywhere. The horror he’d felt in that moment. It was the same kind of horror he’d felt when he knew what had happened to Brianna and Sarah.

Everything was just a joke before that, everything was just for fun. When and why had it gone so horribly wrong?

He doesn’t know where these powerful impulses are coming from. Ever since he was younger and noticed he was different than the other kids, he’s felt a deep desire to understand why he is the way he is.

And he wonders about his birth parents. They must know something about these powers he has. His adoptive parents only know as much as he’s allowed them to see, but they had to know more than he’s let on, or else they’d never have made that deal with the government and ended up in their swanky house in this new town where he has to go to a new school where he has no friends, only girls to torment.

But his birth parents know the truth. They have to.

He doesn’t know why he didn’t talk to them in the hospital, when he was hiding, breathing heavily under a desk, scared out of his wits.

 _“We just want to make sure you’re okay,”_ his birth mother had said. He believed her. She’d never come looking for him before. He wasn’t angry about it, he just felt a little rejected.

It had been his chance to get answers and he blew it.

He sees her in his visions, and sometimes in his dreams. Occasionally he has trouble discerning which are visions and which are dreams, but he quickly decides it doesn’t matter.

Her name is Dana Scully and she is his mother. She is beautiful and somewhat mysterious. And sad… so sad. He knows this even when they aren’t sharing each other’s pain through their visions. He wishes she weren’t so sad, that there was something he could do for her.

She works for the government and this gives him pause, adds to his confusion. It’s guys from the government who are pursuing him. They’re the ones who killed his parents.

He knows Dana Scully is expecting a baby, too. He’s seen it in his visions.

He doesn’t understand why she gave him up, even though he heard every word she said to him while he was feigning death in the morgue. She’d said she wanted to keep him safe, but from what? From whom?

The only person anyone needs to be kept safe from is himself.

_I’m so sorry that I didn’t get a chance to know you, or you get a chance to know me or your father._

His father.

There’s a man, one about his birth mother’s age, who has appeared in his visions as well. He’s the same man he saw her with in the hospital; Fox Mulder. He knows this is the man Dana Scully thinks is his father. He has kind eyes, and dark hair like his own, and he loves her, and she loves him. He doesn’t need to know them to know this. It radiates off them both like energy.

But he’s seen visions of two men, two “fathers,” and whenever he sees them his confusion grows.

The other man… well, he doesn’t know how or why, but he has a horrible feeling in his gut that this man must be his real father. He has to be. Why else would he be having these bad impulses? Why else would he do these horrible things? This isn’t him, this isn’t the person he is. It has to be coming from this evil man, he can’t think of another explanation.

This man is old, far too old to be involved romantically with his birth mother who is so clearly in love with the other guy, anyway. He can’t figure out how or why a third party could be involved at all.

But he hears him in his head, plain as day, saying he made him, he created him. He makes it sound like he’s some monster he came up with in a laboratory.

Maybe he is a monster. It would be fitting.

There’s something wrong with him, he knows that much. He feels it every day. It’s why he acts out the way he does, because he doesn’t know what else to do, or how else to alleviate his own pain. He shares it with others and hates himself afterwards. He’s a mutant, or something inhuman, he has to be.

And they all call him William. _William_ , his identity, apparently, since before he can even remember. Who is this “William” person? He can’t possibly describe how strange it feels to be called by the name of someone he is not. Every time he hears the name it stirs something inside of him; discomfort, like he’s had this completely different life that was unlived. A fake life. An idea.

His birth parents couldn’t possibly know about these urges he has that he can only describe as evil. What else could it be? Why else would he have these powers? They can’t be used for good, at least not any that he’s discovered. All he can do with them is hurt people, and he has. He’s a danger to anyone who comes near him. A menace.

Now that he thinks about it, maybe his birth mother did know it after all. Maybe it’s why she gave him away in the first place. He would, if he were her.

He’s questioning everything, about who he is and where he came from and why he is the way he is. He wants answers. He needs answers.

This is the only reason he lets this man Fox Mulder into his motel room.

The man standing outside his door truly believes he is Jackson’s father, and maybe he is. Maybe they will never know the truth. The only thing he’s sure of is that he’s a friend, not a foe. And that this man, Mulder, is going to die for him.

He’s seen it in his visions. There’s nothing he can do about that.

But he’s been on his own for weeks and he’s grateful to see a friendly face, even that of a stranger. So he unlocks the latch and slowly opens the door. Fox Mulder enters, looking exhausted but happy to see him.

“This may seem strange to you, but I’ve been looking for you forever,” he says.

Before Jackson can respond this stranger is hugging him tightly. He lets him, but doesn’t return the hug. Everything about this is uncomfortable.

“I held you when you were a baby,” Mulder says.

“Okay, maybe you did, but I don’t remember that,” Jackson explains. Even if half his DNA came from this man it doesn’t change the fact that this is the first time he’s met him, at least in his own memory.

“I know you know who I am, you hid from me. And from your mother.”

Jackson wants to tell this guy to hold up, slow his roll, he isn’t his father, she isn’t his mother. His parents were murdered, because of him. All because of him.

But something deep inside won’t let him because he knows this man cares deeply about him. He knows because he can hear it in his thoughts; something else he’s noticed he can do from time to time. He hasn’t quite honed this ability but when a thought is strong enough he can hear it; he can feel it. It’s how he knew the trucker who picked him up earlier had ill intentions. It’s how he knew the man who picked him up next wished him harm as well.

Now as he looks into the eyes of this man who believes he is his father, he hears love in his thoughts; love for a tiny baby, love for his birth mother, all wrapped up alongside more immediate thoughts of confusion and urgency.

Fox Mulder wants to help him, but he can’t. Jackson tries to explain this to him, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He has no clue what’s headed their way, no clue of the danger he’s put them both in by coming here. He has no idea what danger he’s put himself in by wanting anything to do with him.

Sure enough, Jackson’s pursuers enter the motel room hell bent on taking him into custody, setting in motion a chain of events that will lead to the end of the entire world. He knows there’s only one way out.

He has no choice. He cannot let them take him. He’s seen how it all ends.

As the red mist of the remnants of his attackers float through the air like a fog of death, Mulder looks at Jackson with a fear in his eyes he never wants to see again.

So he runs, again.

 

***

 

He’s hiding, and resting. He knows he only has so much time before they find him again. He looks around in the darkness, at the catwalks and stairwells of this familiar abandoned place; a place where he’d hang out with kids from school. Kids who never really understood him.

“...Jackson?”

A woman’s voice. He stands up. She steps out of the shadows, looking furtively behind her. She’s pretty, with brown hair and kind eyes. She looks a little familiar.

“Jackson, don’t be afraid, my name is Monica.”

 _“Monica Reyes,”_ she thinks. Well, she’s not lying about her name. That’s a start.

“Who are you?” Something tells him he doesn’t need to run, that this woman is a friend. The mind reading is getting easier by the hour, apparently.

“I’m only here as a friend, please don’t run.”

“What do you want?”

“I need to tell you something very important, something you need to know.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t have much time. There’s a man here, a man who is looking for you. I think you know who I’m talking about.”

_“I don’t know how long he’ll be asleep in the car… that sedative loses potency in smoke…”_

“The old guy? The crazy one?”

She nods. “I want you to know he’s a liar, and you don’t have to listen to anything he says, Jackson. You don’t.”

“You mean the guy who smokes all the time? I see him, in my head. He says he’s my real father.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not your father. He’s just a sad old man who is desperate for some validation.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your real parents are old friends of mine. Their names are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. I know you’ve seen them, too.”

“How do you know this? How do you know what I see? How can you know who my parents are?”

She stands in front of him now, smiling. “I’ve watched you for your entire life. I knew you so long ago.”

_“I delivered you myself.”_

He looks at her, incredulous. “You’ve… been watching me? My whole life?”

She nods.

“Why?”

“I’ve only been trying to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Do you know about me, then? Why... I am the way I am?” She has to be telling the truth, she has to be. Maybe she can give him the answers he needs.

“You deserve to know the truth after all these years.”

_“And once I’ve told you, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be alive.”_

Jackson is silent, waiting. He doesn’t know what to say to this.

“You were part of a secret program run by the government. Parts of the government most of the country isn’t aware of. They experiment with alien DNA, trying to create hybrids and new lifeforms. You were one of these experiments.”

Jackson is confused. Alien? He’s… an alien?

“Are you talking about this Project Crossroads thing? My parents left some papers out that I wasn’t supposed to find. They had my name on them. So I tried to find out what I could. I couldn’t get very far.”

Monica is nodding. “You were one of a number of random children who were created through this program. All of them failures, but you… you were different. You were… special.”

“Special how?”

“This bad man… the man who smokes... who oversaw the program for many years, he hadn’t counted on something. He hadn’t counted on your mother and father having such a unique combination of DNA. Combined with the alien science he used to create you, you were completely unique. You were the one they were waiting for.”

“How can you possibly know all this?” Jackson’s mind is reeling. _What the hell is going on?_ This all sounds like something out of a movie, or a comic book. How is he a part of any of this? How can this be real?

 _It must be real,_ he thinks. After the things he’s seen, the things he’s _done..._ She must be telling the truth.

“The people who did this, after they verified what you were, just how special you were, they planned to let your mother raise you, until you were old enough to be useful. At that point, some point far into the future, they would strike.”

“Strike? Strike how?”

“They need you, your unique physiology, to protect themselves from the coming alien apocalypse. The smoking man is insane, hell bent. He wants to unleash a plague on the entire population and use you to save himself. It has to be you, Jackson. You’re the only one who can save anyone. If he were to find you… well, it would be unthinkable.”

The pandemic. He definitely saw this in his visions.  

“How did you get involved in all of this?”

“I was approached by a man named Jeffrey Spender, a couple years after your mother had to let you go. He had been the one to convince her to give you up for adoption anonymously. He knew the only way to keep you away from the smoking man was to make you disappear. And he had to make Scully believe she had no choice.”

Jackson absorbs this. “So… that’s why she gave me away?”

“She didn’t know any of this. About the experiment, about the smoking man’s involvement, none of it… she only wanted to keep you safe.”

Jackson feels a wave of heavy emotion rise within Monica.

“It was so hard for her, Jackson. I was there with her when she made the decision. I’ve never seen anyone so heartbroken. She wanted you so much. She loved you so much.”

This is all too much to take. He wanted to believe his mother didn’t want him, that he meant nothing to her. He knows now it wasn’t true, especially after hearing her in the morgue, but it would make everything so much easier if it were.

“Jeffrey Spender was able to track you with a metallic substance he injected into you as a baby. He knew exactly where you were all the time. But he knew Scully could never find out. He then enlisted my help in keeping the smoking man at bay, so he could never find you.”

“But… why couldn’t my mother be the one? Why couldn’t she protect me? Or my father?”

“There had been numerous attempts on your life, and she was afraid she just couldn’t keep you safe. What she didn’t realize is that the smoking man knows where she is, all the time. She has alien technology inside her in the form of an implant. He’s able to track her, know everything about her because of this implant. It’s what he used to make you possible, Jackson. So if she knew your whereabouts, he would know too, and you would be in danger. This is what Jeffrey Spender knew, this is why he had to convince her to let you go.”

“Did my parents know about any of this? I mean… my adoptive parents?”

“They didn’t know the truth. Your parents thought they were helping you by getting the government involved. There’s no way they could have known the real dangers.”

He thinks of his parents, dead on the kitchen floor. And of his birth mother, sending him off to strangers because just being around him put them both in danger. Will he ever be able to keep anyone safe? Can anyone truly be safe with him?

“Why now? Why is all this happening now?”

“When the Department of Defense discovered where you lived and started keeping tabs on you, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the smoking man tracked you down. Even Spender knew we needed to protect you.”

“What about these visions I keep seeing? They’re visions of the future, I know it. They’re scary, and real, and I know my birth mother sees them too.”

“The smoking man is responsible. He has control over the connection you have with your mother. It’s just a possible future, Jackson. We can prevent it. We can.”

_“I’m so afraid you’re going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it.”_

Jackson tries to push her thoughts away, he tries, but he hears them loud and clear. He’s starting to suspect there is only one way out for him. There is only one way out for the entire planet.

“You can’t let him find you,” she is pleading now. “You can’t. Everything depends upon it.”

Jackson stares at her. This is a lot of information to take. He’s not sure what to believe anymore.

“You have to believe me, Jackson. I did everything to protect you, to protect my friends. I gave up everything, I…” she trails off, tears are welling in her eyes.

“But… why? Why are you helping me?”

Monica looks at her hands. There’s something so sad about her, something tragic, but whatever it is she isn’t thinking about it right now, so he can’t know it.

“I… had to. Your mother… she means a lot to me, Jackson. She was my friend. When I knew you were in danger, that you all were in danger… well, I did what I could. I had no idea the price I would pay.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell her any of this? Why would you keep something like this from her?” He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it.

“I had to. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t even be in contact with her. She couldn’t know where you were or the smoking man would be right behind her. It was impossible. If she knew… if she’d known I knew where you were this entire time and didn’t tell her… she’d hate me, Jackson. So I haven’t spoken to her, not in years.”

The tears in her eyes are falling down her cheeks now. She’s so sad, such a sad person. He feels horrible for all of this, all this pain he’s caused. All these people he’s affected. He just wants it all to be over.

“Your parents loved you so much,” Monica smiles. “They’re good people. I just… need you to know that, Jackson. And the smoking man… he could never understand how much they care about you. You were just an experiment to him, but you weren’t to your parents. They’ve suffered so much, worried about you so much. If only you knew…”

She stops for a moment, and looks behind her again. He can tell she’s running out of time.

“I know he’s been in your mind. I know he can make you see things, things that aren’t true. A future that’s unwritten, that doesn’t have to be.”

“How can I stop it?”

 _“You die,”_ she thinks.

“You stay hidden," she says. "Don’t let him find you.”

Monica looks behind her one more time. “I have to go.” She walks a couple steps towards him and squints at him a bit, smiling.

“You look like him, you know? Like your father.”

She looks at him for a moment, then turns and runs away. He never sees Monica Reyes again.

 

***

 

The smoking man is in front of him, aiming a gun at his face. At Mulder’s face.

In this moment Jackson feels such relief, such release. He will end this all right now. Maybe he was meant to be here, exactly the way he’s seen it go down in his premonition.

He was meant to save his birth parents. He was meant to save the world. He was meant to die.

He wasn’t meant to be.

“The boy would rather die first, now that he knows the truth,” he tells the smoking man.

“That I’m the one who made him? That I’m William’s creator?” The old man is pointing the gun at him, smiling, his eyes manic. For a moment he wonders if the guy has actually lost his damn mind.

He doesn’t know who this man is. Hell, he doesn’t know who “William” is. He may have created William, but he didn’t create Jackson. He has no claim over Jackson whatsoever.

One thing he knows for certain is that this man is evil. He has to be stopped. He wants to tell him to go to hell but he needs to keep up this charade or this man will find him, catch him. Then everyone will die.

He knows it. He can see it.

He lifts his eyes to the sky, then closes them in acceptance. “I don’t think you can do it.”

“Then you don’t know me very well,” the old man replies, cold as ice.

The last thing Jackson sees is Fox Mulder emerging from the factory, running towards him, and the last thing he feels is despair from Dana Scully, wherever she is, before everything goes black.

 

***

 

The bullet had gone directly into his frontal lobe, and straight back into his temporal lobe.

It was a strange sensation, as if he could feel himself dying. He could feel every atom the bullet had pierced disappear into oblivion, including the connection he’d had with his mother. He doesn’t know how or why but it’s gone, and so is her pain.

He’s relieved he doesn’t have to feel that anymore, not from her.

As he bobs at the surface of the water, he sees the old man floating next to him, dead. The connection he had with this man is also completely gone. This brings him a sense of peace, that the world is somehow safe from this monster.

Jackson smiles and tears start to fall. He knows it’s over now, it’s all over. And he’s alive. He didn’t have to die after all. His relief, however, soon becomes confusion as to why and how he survived.

His hand goes to his forehead and he feels it: a large bullet hole, front and center.

_...How?_

Something deep inside has stirred, it’s telling him he has the power to destroy, yes… but also the power to heal. That’s a good thing, a hopeful thing.

He swims over to the dock’s edge and begins to climb the ladder. As his eyes slowly rise over the edge he sees them together, his birth parents. At first he thinks it’s just Mulder, but he then can see Scully wrapped into him as if they are one. They are holding onto each other, sobbing. He’s kissing the top of her head and she is hugging him tightly. Both their shoulders are hitching in emotion. The love he saw before is shining through, even in their grief.

He knows they loved him. He knows it.

Part of him wants to pull himself up onto the dock and run to them, saying he’s here, he’s alive, everything is okay!

But he doesn’t. Somehow he knows he doesn’t belong here. He meant what he said when he told her to let him go. The look he’d seen in Mulder’s eyes when he’d killed all those people is a look he never wants to see in his eyes again.

And not _ever_ in her eyes.

He wants her to remember him a different way. He wants her to remember the way it was, back when they were together. He wants her to be at peace.

_Don’t give up on the bigger picture._

He’d said this to her weeks ago and he still feels its weight in his heart. They have a future, and it doesn’t need to be filled with grief, and pain, and guilt.

It doesn’t need to be filled with fear for him, and _of_ him.

Maybe he’ll see them again someday. He’s on his own again, and no one is chasing him anymore. It’s the way he wants it. For now, at least. It’s his choice.

He watches them for a few moments, just standing there, holding each other, and waits for them to depart, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her.

There’s a truth that enters his mind, something he couldn’t see before. He isn’t a monster. He isn’t a mutant. He isn’t evil.

Something evil could never have come from a love like that.

 

 

 

**SCULLY**

 

 

 

A conversation between two friends on a rock led to an observation she couldn’t deny for years.

Mulder, a modern day Captain Ahab, endlessly searching for the white whale that was his truth. At the time she’d felt frustrated, even annoyed that she couldn’t seem to get it.

Now, oh boy, does she ever get it.

She’d been on the sidelines for years, watching Mulder search for his sister with steadfast determination. She’d shared in his pain as any friend would, and later in their relationship she shared it in a more powerful way. When he’d finally learned the truth and could let Samantha go, it was such a relief; for both him and for her.

Now she’s at the helm of the _Pequod_ , staring ahead at the horizon, searching for her own white whale.

What Skinner tells her in the car is upsetting, but not exactly surprising. She’d been preparing herself for such an outcome for years, as much as she never wanted to believe it. Call it a mother’s intuition.

“There’s something you need to know. About your son. About who his father is.”

“His father is Mulder.”

“Dana-"

“His _father_ is _Mulder_.”

Skinner sighs. “I hope for both your sakes that’s true. But as your friend, I need to tell you everything I’ve learned.”

“Okay.”

“The person I was on the phone with earlier was Spender. The smoking man.”

Scully closes her eyes and exhales deeply, head tilting up towards the roof of the car. “And what did he have to say?”

“He told me William only exists because of him. That he created him, he made it possible. He says _he’s_ the father.”

Scully feels a deep chill all the way to the bone. Something she always feared, always suspected, in fact true. That cigarette smoking bastard had violated her again.

_Why won’t that motherfucker just go away? Why does he continue to torment us? Why won’t he leave us alone?_

“What exactly did he say, Skinner?”

“He didn’t give me all the details, but he said something about a chip. An implant. Something he’s able to manipulate, that can then manipulate your body’s chemistry. I don’t quite understand how it works.”

Scully scoffs. “Story of my life.”

She thinks of the chip that C.G.B. Spender had given Mulder years ago to cure her cancer, to save her life. She had no clue what it did, or exactly how it worked, but the alien technology within it _had_ rid her body of the disease. It was a miracle chip, a magical chip. She thanks her lucky stars for it every day.

She has no idea how the mechanics of such a chip could restore her fertility, and for what purpose, but here they are, and here William is. This much must be the truth.

After she had awakened in the smoking man’s house during their fateful road trip, she had checked her body for injection marks, signs of sexual assault, anything that would indicate some kind of physical violation. Of course she had. She’d found nothing. It hadn’t occurred to her to check her implant site.

“Why on earth would he tell you all this?”

“He wanted me to find your son. And… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he likes to talk.”

“But… you didn’t, did you? You didn’t help him find him, did you?” _Please, not you. Not after everything we’ve been through._

 _"_ No, Dana. I’ve tried as hard as I could to keep him off his trail. You have to believe me.”

Scully closes her eyes again and thinks. “But why? Why me? Why would he do this?”

“All I know is he said he’s the father.”

“He’s a liar,” Scully replies bitterly. “He would say that. He’s a narcissistic megalomaniac. It doesn’t mean William isn’t my son. It doesn’t mean he isn’t Mulder’s.”

She knows this to be true. Even if C.G.B. motherfucking Spender had made William a possibility, she’d needed Mulder to make him a reality.

This is what she must believe. This is where she will stay.

She can’t help but feel a deep wave of anguish that the miracle she and Mulder believed they’d created all these years was in fact just an experiment.

One more experiment she’d have to survive.

One more experiment who would now need to find his own way to survive.

She thinks of a conversation she’d had with her mother long ago, as she rushed out of her apartment looking for more answers:

_I can’t take this on faith. I need to know. I need to know if it’s really God I have to thank._

She thinks of Mulder, and a conversation they'd once had:

_We're both looking for answers._

She hates admitting it to herself but there were so many moments when she suspected something had been terribly wrong, something wasn't right. She'd pushed those feelings aside, ever in denial. It had brought her nothing but heartache.

Did she really have the goddamn smoking man to thank for her miracle? For the child she and Mulder were miraculously able to conceive? The child that she was forced to give up, leading to so much pain and despair that weighed upon every breath she’s taken all these years?

Of course, he’s responsible for all of it. All the pain and suffering she’s endured over the years. Mulder’s search for truth, and his family. The stupid colonization date that finally destroyed their relationship.

All of their misery is down to _him_ , that bastard, just as it always has been.

 _He’s a thief,_ she thinks. _He stole our child from us. He stole time from us._

_He stole our very relationship from us._

He made them parents, and then he ripped that away from them forever. She’d barely had time to solidify her identity as a parent before she had to relinquish it. And Mulder certainly had no chance, not really.

Suddenly all of this fades into the background of her mind as a new thought comes over her, almost like a vision. A punch in the gut. Something she has always been conscious of deep down but doesn’t think much about:

 _William’s_ _parents_. The ones who raised him all these years.

Teaching him to walk. Teaching him to read. His father teaching him how to hit a baseball. His mother teaching him how to love.

Parents, real parents, to her child. She rarely spares them a thought.

She’s been slowly trying to give William up in her heart day after day, every day since she gave him up to them. She hasn’t allowed herself to feel anything other than loss all these years, even though she knows William had a full life without ever knowing her.

Suddenly she feels as if she’s been selfish. Until recently, maybe he didn’t even know she existed. To him, she is a stranger. Not a mother. And he can’t remember when she was.

She was never a mother to him.

This realization comes over her in an instant.

All this time she’s only had her own perspective to see him from; a parent, missing their child from afar. She’d never really seen it from his point of view before. It’s eye-opening.

As she tries to process these feelings, her eye catches a familiar vehicle across the street. Skinner is saying something but she isn’t listening. She tells him to follow Mulder.

“...I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted you to have all the information. Was I wrong to tell you?”

She thinks. “No. You weren’t wrong.”

As an investigator she knows he did the right thing, and as one herself she doesn’t want to live in denial. She’s chosen that path before, many times, and it’s only brought her here. Everything about this scenario is so complicated, so personal, so messed up. A monsoon of information is swirling in her brain. She feels sick to her stomach. The human mind shouldn’t be capable of handling so many contradictory emotions.

When they arrive at the docks, Scully leaps out of the car. All she wants to do is find William, make sure he’s going to be okay. That’s all she wants.

She spots Mulder roaming around inside the factory, tells him to find William, but he stops her.

"He doesn't want to be found."

“I just want to talk to him,” she cries desperately. She just wants to know. She has to know he’s okay. She needs him to know what he means to her.

“I’m asking you to let him go,” Mulder tells her.

_Why is he saying this?_

She looks into the eyes of the person she loves most in the world and sees someone unfamiliar. She is confused for a moment. This is all so unfair, they are so, so close, and for some reason he’s trying to stop her.

"We can protect him!" she cries. They have to try.

"No, we can't protect him. No one can."

_What?_

“He knows that you love him.”

_Why would Mulder say this? Why would he think that?_

“How can he know that? How can he possibly know that?” she cries.

Then she sees it. She can’t explain how, or why, but she knows she’s looking into the eyes of her son. Through the eyes of his father. The weight of this grips her like a vise and she can’t move.

Something occurs to her in this moment that she’d never truly understood: Mulder’s deep seated need to protect her. For so long she’d believed it was a gender thing, some manly urge. It wasn’t. She now knows it’s only because he loves her. Protecting her is protecting himself, protecting his own heart. She understands that now.

This comes to her with an unusual clarity as she looks into Mulder’s eyes, knowing she’s looking into her son’s.

He’s seventeen, and has gone through more horrible things in the past few months than most kids have to go through in their lifetime. He's not going to let them protect him. He's not going to let them try. She wants to believe he can take care of himself, because she has no other choice. But she will always want to do what she can to protect him.

And she will always, _always_ love him. No matter what.

_He doesn't want to be found._

_He knows that you love him._

_I’m asking you to let him go._

He’s making a choice and the choice is for her to let him go. She never anticipated a scenario in which he wouldn’t want them to all be together; in which he would make a different choice; a choice to be alone. She isn’t sure what to feel.

“Scully!”

She sees Mulder coming around the corner. William is gripping her shoulder and her mind involuntarily flashes to all those years ago when he would do the same with much smaller hands, tucked into her breast as he fell asleep. In an instant, a hundred more images flash through her mind. Maybe they’re from William, maybe they’re from the smoking man, maybe they’re only from herself. She has the distinct impression she may never know. But she sees his life flash in front of her, a thousand moments she missed, a lifetime of memories that were never hers. And a truth that she can now plainly, painfully see.

He was never really hers. He isn’t her William, not anymore. There is no William. The truth is, there is only Jackson.

Jackson, who had another life, and another mother, and another father.

Jackson, who doesn’t remember she sang Three Dog Night to him before bed when he was a baby.

Jackson, who will never know the real truth: that he was conceived in love by two strangers he has never known.

And Jackson wants her to let him go.

She’d been so focused on finding him again it never even occurred to her he hadn’t wanted to be found. He isn’t telling her he loves _her._ He can’t, he couldn’t, not in the way she loves him. He doesn’t even know her.

He may be her son forever, but to him, she was never his mother. His mother is in a body bag somewhere, right next to his father.

_He knows you love him._

It took her seventeen years to understand. He heard everything she said to him in that morgue, when she was pouring her heart out to him. He heard it all, her love, her grief, and her guilt.

_Oh, her guilt._

She just wants it to stop. And now she knows he wants it to stop for her too.

It’s the only thing within his power to give to her; absolution. She wants to take it, she needs to take it. She’s suffered for so long.

Before she can think of something to say to him, he’s gone again. She wants to grant his request, she wants to let go, but she needs to know his fate, even if it’s a fate without her.

He cannot become her Samantha.

He cannot remain her white whale.

After what feels like an eternity of running and searching and the familiar terrible sound of gunshots she comes upon a distraught Mulder staring out to the sea: her Ahab no more. He is broken, shattered to the core.

“He’s gone, Scully.”

She knows he’s gone. She could feel their connection break after she heard the gunshots.

“He shot him. And he shot me.”

She’s not entirely sure what happened, but she knows he is in a great deal of distress. It’s unlike anything she’s seen before.

Mulder hasn’t felt this grief before, not like she has. She’s grieved the loss of her own motherhood so many times already. She grieved it when she first learned of her infertility. She grieved it when she lost Emily. She grieved it when their attempt at in-vitro failed. She grieved it when she gave up William. And now she’s grieving it again for the loss of Jackson.

She’s so tired of grief. She just wants this to all be over. She just wants some peace.

Right now she needs to let Mulder share his pain with her. Take it in, share his burden, like they always do. She knows the truth won’t alleviate his pain; nothing will. But she will tell him anyway. Mulder would want the truth. She can’t think of anything else to do.

“Mulder… he wanted us to let him go. He wasn’t meant to be.”

He’d said the same thing to her so many years ago when she’d had to let go of Emily. This entire situation feels so similar, only this time it’s happening to them both. This time it’s happening to Mulder and he’s having a difficult time accepting that. The words hadn’t brought her comfort but they had brought her clarity. In a fog of emotion it was something rational to hold onto. Rationality is what they both need right now.

 “William was our son!” Mulder cries.

She shakes her head no, because he doesn’t understand what she does now. That he wasn’t meant to be their son. That William was just an idea, an image. That however much they will always think of him as their son, they were not _his_ parents. Not to him. Not to Jackson.

_He wasn’t meant to be our son._

She gathers her courage. She knows if she can just tell him the truth, it will be the right words. They will have to be.

“William was an experiment, Mulder,” she tells him, tears starting to flow. This is how he began and she knows it, just like Emily. This is how she needs to explain it to him, like the thousands of times she has before, with science. “He was an idea born in a laboratory.”

“But... you were his mother,” Mulder says.

She shakes her head, closes her eyes, knowing he isn’t hearing her. She wants to make him understand, but maybe she can’t right now. She needs to say this, she needs to get it out, it’s the only way she will be able to let him go in her heart. But maybe the right words will not find their way out, like usual.

“I carried him, and I bore him,” she cries. “...but I was never a mother to him.” It sounds so terrible coming out like this, but it’s the truth.

_The truth. Tell him the truth. It will be the right words._

Her experiences with William were all real, and so was her love for him. But she can no longer deny the only reason he existed at all was to fulfill some evil agenda. She can only be grateful he had a life, for the most part, free of that agenda.

“William… William was…” but she can’t say anything anymore. There aren’t any words to adequately explain any of this at the moment. She doesn’t even know where to start. The exact method and manner their child came to be is something neither of them have ever known, and something neither of them will ever know for sure.

He was their final X File.

She thinks of Samantha. Mulder’s lost sister, his very first X File, who started everything. After decades of his life, he had to let her go. He was drowning.

It pains her to let their son go but she has to. They both have to.

Mulder’s eyes find hers, then look skyward. She can tell he doesn’t grasp everything but what he does seem to grasp is that it’s over. It’s all over.

“For so long, I believed…” Mulder trails off. The pain in his eyes is so profound she’s finding it hard to look at him. She believed he’d been their miracle, too. She believed they’d all be together again one day. It was a hope she’d kept buried deep down, never spoke of, but never let go of.

“What am I now, if I’m not a father?”

His son is dead, the son he never knew. It pains her to see him letting go of his identity as a father. He never even had a chance to find it, and now he’s lost it. The look on his face is something she never wants to see again.

This isn’t the way she wanted to deliver the news she’d only just found out that morning. But she needs to stop seeing the face she sees right now. She needs to make it go away. She has to try.

“You _are_ a father,” she tells him.

“What are you talking about?” He still sounds so defeated. He has no idea this is real. He thinks she’s only trying to make him feel better.

She takes his hand like she has thousands of times before, hers warming his with life. She brings it to her abdomen and holds it there silently because there aren’t words adequate to describe this.

A _true_ miracle.

It won’t take their son from their memories. It won’t heal their pain entirely. But it’s _something_ ; something good for them to share in this moment of despair.

He looks at her, incredulous. Their breath is visible in the cold night air, dancing in sync with one another’s. His fingers twist and turn against her belly, not searching for anything in particular but for truth, as always.

“That’s impossible,” he says, eyes wide. She knows he wants to believe it so badly.

“I know it is,” she whispers, tears falling. “It’s more than impossible.”

A thousand emotions flood her mind at once: grief for her son, empathy for Mulder, anger at the smoking man, confusion about all of it, but louder than anything else a dominant emotion rises from the ashes.

Love.

Mulder pulls her close, enveloping her tightly. They stand there together quietly, their breathing and the gentle waves lapping against the dock the only sounds.

“This is too much to process, Scully. I can’t… I don't…”

“I know, it’s okay.”

She moves her arms inside his jacket so she can get a better hold on him. His hands grip the back of her head and he kisses the top of it, laying his head on hers. She feels as if he would crawl into her if he could. He’s holding her so tightly, as if he’s trying to keep her on the ground, trying to keep her beside him. As if she’s the last thing on the planet he has, and if he lets go she will disappear somehow.

“So… what does this mean?” he asks.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to think about any of this. She’s not really sure how she’s supposed to feel right now, but she knows somewhere in there is happiness, real happiness. She’s trying to focus on that.

“It means… we live, Mulder.”

She can feel him nodding. It’s all they can do. This is where they are, and what they’re left with: each other. It always comes back to the two of them, always.

He releases her and they look at each other once more. Somehow she knows things are different this time: they are going to be parents, together. Finally.

Mulder places his hand on her belly again, and his smile can’t be contained. He puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close, and they start to walk slowly back along the dock.

After several paces, they hear a splash, then a very loud noise. Scully cannot describe it, it’s a bit disconcerting. It sounds violent, and she can’t help but think in some way organic.

They turn around back towards where they came from and see something that definitely wasn’t there before: an enormous puddle of blood. They run back to where they’d just been standing to investigate, and what they see is unlike anything she’s encountered before in twenty five years of working on the X Files.

Mulder’s hand instinctively hovers near Scully’s abdomen, keeping her back.

“I’ve seen this before, Scully,” he says breathlessly. He crouches down and for a moment it feels like it always does, without all this personal heartache. Like they are doing their thing, like they always have.

“Mulder, this…”

She walks around the mess and bends down a bit, looking closer.

“This is brain matter. And intestinal… it’s as if someone... exploded.”

Mulder tilts his head and looks up at her. “It’s him.”

She’s confused. “Who?”

“William did this. He’s still alive, Scully.”

She doesn’t know how Mulder knows this, but the certainty on his face makes her believe him.

“But… how? You said he got shot.”

“He did! I saw it. I saw…” He’s standing up, scratching the back of his head. She can see the wheels spinning like they usually do in these situations and she feels a strong wave of comfort crash over her. She’s feeling better by the second.

“He’s got these powers, Scully. I saw him do incredible things. I saw him do this,” he’s frantically gesturing at the bloody mess, “to those goddamn Purlieu people in that motel room.”

“ _This_ is what you saw?”

“Yeah, but… who is this?”

“ _Was_ this.”

“Was this.”

He bends down again and walks around the other side, his eyes fixed on the mess. Scully knows he must be serious, looking at the insides of dead bodies is not his realm of choice. She’s half expecting his last meal to come up at any moment. But then she knows he finds whatever he’s been looking for. His gaze stops and his eyes harden. He reaches out, crime scene be damned, and picks up the incriminating object.

A bloody cigarette.

They look down over the edge of the dock and see what’s left of CGB Spender, floating in the water beneath the mess, blood sprayed up along the side of the pilings.

 _Jackson must have finished the job,_ Scully thinks, smiling in spite of herself.

As Mulder bags the cigarette, he looks at her and their look immediately evolves from one understanding to another as they rush to the end of the dock, looking out into the seemingly endless obsidian ocean. They see nothing. They hear nothing. They both know he’s gone, again. 

Mulder takes her hand and squeezes it, and she leans into him, finally happy, alive, and unafraid.

Their son is alive. The smoking man is dead, truly dead. As quickly as their world turned upside down it’s righted itself again.

They turn and walk back along the dock hand in hand.

Mulder dangles the bag. “We’re gonna want to get this butt tested, Scully.”

“Oh. Um… I forgot to tell you, Kersh shut us down.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

He grins at her. “As if that ever stopped us.”

As they walk back to his car, back to freedom, back to their reality, she feels a release she hasn’t felt in years. Maybe they will see their son again someday. Maybe they won’t. But sorrow has been replaced with hope. And most importantly, they will always have each other.

There are so many things that will stay elusive, that will never be answered, truths they may never find, as far and as wide as they seek.

But love remains.

 

 

 

**MULDER**

**(Epilogue)**

 

 

 

And now, they live.

They live in freedom, and peace. They don’t know pain or fear like they used to, not anymore.

They live a thousand moments that they never got to live, a thousand moments that were stolen from them. All the time they wasted they are getting back.

_His hand in hers, in the doctor’s office, as he listens to their baby’s heart beating together for the first time._

_Lying on their couch, singing to his child, touching Scully’s growing belly and feeling a flutter of movement against his hand._

_Welcoming his daughter into the world, and seeing it anew with her arrival: light and life and happiness and the smile and tears on Scully’s face he will never forget._

_Hour 49 of his daughter’s life, letting the gravity of that moment settle in, where he can remain here this time with his family. No danger, no running, no more obsessions to bolster._

_Her first word “dada,” which brings tears to his eyes, and her first real word “doctor” which brings tears to Scully’s._

_Her first steps taken in their home, in the exact same place Scully broke his heart, forever replacing a bad memory with a good one._

_Her first puppy, she names Pip, which was only a nonsense word she’d formed well before she knew what “Moby Dick” even was, but Scully looks at him wide eyed and smiling and they know it's the name._

_Her first quest, when Mulder packs a small backpack with goldfish crackers and a flashlight and takes her squatchin’ in the wilderness around their house, discovering nothing except her uncontainable sense of adventure._

_Her first day of school, hugging her mother and father so tightly, then bravely facing a new journey._

They named her Lily; springtime, a clean slate, a blaring trumpet from the heavens only they could hear. Their new beginning, a new start. A light at the end of their dark tunnel.

She had let them out into the world.

They have never forgotten their son. They light a candle for him every night in the front window of their unremarkable house, a beacon welcoming a return they know may never occur. But they continue to hope. Hope is much better than grief.

Scully kisses their daughter goodnight and squeezes Mulder’s hand. As he looks into her eyes and smiles, he wants for nothing. He’s never been so happy. His heart has never been so full.

Scully departs, and he and Lily are alone. He looks down at Scully’s old copy of _Moby Dick_ and begins to read.

“Queequeg was a native of Rokovoko, an island far away to the West and South.”

He pauses for a moment, closes his eyes and sighs. He has finally found his truth, the only truth worth seeking. Lily taps his arm to make him keep reading.

_“It is not down on any map. True places never are.”_

 

 

the end


End file.
